#there’s this program i wanna enroll in but i have to think hard on this bc this will change the whole trajectory of my life

[st4rbwrry]

rlly thinking about becoming a CNA but do i rlly wanna work in hospitals? overnight shifts? whoever’s a CNA gimme the insider !

#☆. mocha talks #there’s this program i wanna enroll in but i have to think hard on this bc this will change the whole trajectory of my life

[artificial-transmutations]

Transformation Letter: Michael

Hey, I'm Michael, a 20 year old guy at a top university, but it's not exactly the experience I thought it would be and I just want a change. I'm just kinda an average looking guy with short brown hair, blue eyes and an unremarkable body, pretty average all round. I still wanna be a man at the end of this, being an object isn't exactly appealing to me.

Being accepted at a top university has always been a dream of yours, but boy didn't you anticipate how much work it was going to be. At first, the orientation phase had been pretty fun. But after the first semester was over, you realized just how hard the courses were. It was certainly no comparison to the school you went to before and sometimes you even found yourself envying the people that were in the normal degree program.

Still, you had a dedication to make the best of it and managed to stay in the top tier of your classes. That came at a cost, however. Your social life was pretty much non-existent. It was always late evening when you finished up studying and most of the time you were simply too tired to even think about partying or meeting friends.

You are at your desk now, surrounded by tons of books, and have just begun a new chapter, listening to some lo-fi music from your laptop to help you concentrate. It has been weeks now since you sent that letter to the shady internet company in a moment of weakness. Everything you wrote was true: You don't really hate the university, but it isn't at all how you imagined it to be: A relaxed and laid back episode of your life filled with friends and parties. Everything in you longs for a change, but your ambition keeps you on track.

Still, you normally wouldn't express these thoughts to a stranger like that, and you don't really know why you decided to write the letter in the end. Regardless, it has been weeks now and you doubt there will be any kind of answer. Perhaps the company has gone out of business or has never existed to begin with.

You turn the page of your textbook, looking sighingly at yet another page filled with formulas when suddenly the music coming from your laptop changes.

Where before it has been more of a rhythmic lo-fi noise, the track that just began to play is clearly a pop song, something you have heard at the radio before. You frown. Perhaps Dotify has reached the end of your playlist and has entered that arcane mode with 'recommendations'. You always wondered how in the world the algorithm choses those, as they more often than not have nothing in common with the previous playlist.

You reach over to your laptop to change the music back, but you stop in your tracks. Even though you're not exactly a fan of pop songs, it is quite a catchy tune, so you let it play.

You quickly realize, however, that it's distracting you from your lecture. After you have read the same formula twice over, you lay down the book. Perhaps it’s time for a short break. You lean back in your chair and close your eyes for a moment, rubbing your temples and just listen to the music, trying to recollect what you've learned so far in this session.

However, the more you try to remember and connect the dots, the less you feel like you understand the subject at all. It's like whenever you try to concentrate on a connection you have already made, the cheery tune invades your mind and snaps it in two. The whole thing is just two complicated, beyond your mental reach. You feel dumb admitting that, but perhaps you have to start being honest to yourself. You're just not that bright, and it has probably been a mistake trying to pretend you were and enrolling in this university.

The song ends and a new one begins. This one is more powerful, rock music from the 80s or 90s. It is surprisingly relaxing to just admit defeat, and you open your eyes again, leaning back in your chair, arms crossed behind your head. For a good few seconds, you just stare at the pile of books in front of you before you notice something is off. There's a faint smell of... sweat? Following it with your head, you notice your armpits. You are smelling your own sweat and somehow it is not unpleasant at all.

Additionally, however, you can see that your pits are filled with a generous bush of hair - which is something new for you entirely. You normally don't have any body hair to speak of. Curiously, you take a closer look and sniff, try to pull on them - but the pit hair is clearly here and clearly yours. Weird!

You scratch your chin and are surprised when your hand meets stubble. You have definitely been smooth just a few moments ago. Yet, the bristly texture feels good under your hand. You rub your cheeks, where your facial hair seems to be even denser and smile. It's the kind of manly and mature look that you have always dreamed about, even though it is somewhat unexpected. It's a bit sad that you don't have a mirror, but you can feel it with your hand just fine as the beat of the music continues.

You get up from the chair, stretch your limbs and feel a weird pressure in your crotch. As you look down, you notice that your dick is pressing hard against the fabric of your pants. It's hardly surprising, with the weird changes going on to your body! You wonder...

Sheepishly, you slip out of your shirt and are rewarded with a pretty alien sight: Not only is your chest covered in short dark hair, it is also much more impressive than what you're used to. In fact, there is visible definition, not only in your chest but also in your abs where a thick treasure trail of hairs disappears into your pants. But not only your torso is changed. You can practically watch as with every beat, another pulse goes through your body, adding a bit of manliness, a bit of muscle here and there. Your biceps bulge out as if you work out regularly and even your legs gain a bit of definition.

The music keeps playing, and so do the changes. You are no longer the skinny, nerd boy who struggles with calculus. No, you are a real man, a guy that knows his way around a gym, a guy that is respected by other people. You are not only a man, however, you are a real fine specimen of man, with a powerful aura, a confident smile and a dick that is so hard that it could cut diamonds.

When the next track begins playing, you have to smile. You know that song! It's metal, of course, heavy metal. Your fingers begin to drum on the desk as your body changes further. Now, not only does the hair spread further, it also becomes a bit longer, more shaggy. Even more intelligence flees your eyes as they change from the bright blue to a dull brown, but you don't care. You are going with the rhythm of the music, let yourself being carried by it. Every time you hit the wood of your desk, your motions become more precise and more powerful, the bangs louder and exactly on point. Your muscles bulge out, and the smile on your face widens, until you are full-on grinning.

You don't need any books, any lectures, or anything else anymore. The music is the only thing that is important. As you give yourself over to the rhythm, something important changes. No longer is the beat carrying you, you are carrying the beat. Around you, reality changes as the desk and books dissolve, giving way to an expensive drum kit in front of you. Your clothing melts away until you are only wearing a pair of black leather shorts filled to the brim with your erect cock. You know you're in public but you're too dumb, too careless and most of all too manly to care. Let them see your erection bulge! Your powerful arms bring down the drumsticks with force while the rest of your mates play other instruments, and the frontman shouts the song's lyrics into the microphone. Sweat covers your face and your chest, your hair sticks to your forehead as you put every ounce of strength you can muster into producing the loudest beats possible. You can see the crowd going wild through the light of the stage and a feeling of power surges through you, causing your cock to leak a bit of precum into the front of your shorts.

You're no longer a student, and you're no longer a wimp. You are the drum-man of a heavy metal band, and people love you. They adore you, the way your muscles shine with sweat, the way the drums bang out their beat and the way you seem so happy and carefree, as dumb as a brick.

Wow, I think Michael definitely changed for the better here - and all because of a half-forgotten letter. What do you think, does this body suit him better now?

Over at my riot page (just a tip jar!), you can find a few different versions of Michael.

#TransformationLetter #male transformation #muscle transformation #dumbing down #sweat

[mellowsadistic]

Mindy wailed and thrashed as her Nanny spanked her forcefully, aiming for the top of her thighs, what little of her bottom that wasn’t protected by her thick, crinkly, heavily loaded naptime nappy.

“Bad girl, Mindy!” Nanny scolded, “Very bad girl! You do not yell at Nanny, and you especially do not complain about your treatment!”

“Ow! Ow! Ow! STOP IT!” Mindy cried.

“You need to learn your lesson, little girl, “ Nanny continued sternly. “Your loss of night-time bladder and bowel control is a good thing. Waking up with a soaked and stinky diaper sagging from your bottom shows that our regression training methods are working.”

“But I don’t want them to work!” Mindy shrieked. “I don’t wanna be some big baby freak!”

Nanny’s arm began swinging down with all her might, smacking against the skin of Mindy’s rapidly reddening bottom with so much force that the girl’s squealing doubled in volume. “BAD GIRL!” she shouted. “VERY BAD GIRL! You’re here to be punished, young lady! The court sentenced you to four years as a two-year-old, but since you were too proud to allow your boyfriend to treat you accordingly, he had no choice but to enrol you here! State-run discipline nurseries have a 100% success rate at putting regressed girls in their place, and you’re not going to be any exception, missy! A big baby is exactly what you’re going to be!”

“OW! OWIE! PLEASE!” Mindy begged, tears streaming down her face. Her bottom hurt so badly. She didn’t even know what she was begging for. For the spanking to stop? For her adulthood back? To be let out of the discipline nursery and get sent back to her loving boyfriend? How could she have pushed him to enrol her here? If she could turn back time, she would. Who cared if she had to live like a two-year-old, to have her boyfriend change her wet and messy nappies, to have him feed her and bathe her and burp her like a baby, if this was the alternative? Spending her time playing with baby toys and dancing along to toddler songs, and spending hours a day gazing into those screens, swirling colours and faint music that infiltrated your head and whispered to you.

Mindy could never remember the exact words, but the results were clear. After a few days she noticed her bladder and bowel control beginning to weaken, her hands becoming slightly uncoordinated, her walk turning into more of a toddle – and when she’d asked the nursery staff if it could be reversed, they’d only smirked at her.

And now she’d woken up from her nap to find her nappy absolutely drenched, and worse, packed with a yucky mess that she certainly didn’t remember making. The evil bitches at the discipline nursery had turned her into some kind of oversized two-year-old who filled her diapers in her sleep!

“Once we drop you off with your boyfriend at the end of your training, you’ll be a completely different girl!” Nanny said happily, not letting up with her furious swats. “Just like your little friends that are almost done with their conditioning!”

Mindy sobbed and screamed and kicked her legs over her Nanny’s lap. She couldn’t become one of them. She couldn’t! Not those dim-witted baby-women she shared the nursery school with, the diaper-dependent losers with their adult minds still more or less present, but so heavily conditioned with spankings and hypnosis and all the other foul training methods the nursery employed, that they may as well have had their personalities reverted back to toddlerhood – nothing but babbling, screeching, pants-wetting babies in the bodies of beautiful young women.

Mindy wanted to fight it. She couldn’t think of anything worse than ending up like one of them. But it was hard to think straight when her bottom was blazing like it was on fire. She couldn’t help herself. It was just too horrible! She wanted it to stop! She needed Nanny to stop!

“I’m sowwy, Nanny!” she wailed, hating how easily the baby talk came to her. Another gift of the hypnosis programs. “Baby was just cwanky ‘cause she did a poo-poo!” She cringed with shame as she said it, but she knew it was what Nanny wanted to hear. She wasn’t complaining because she was being turned into an oversized toddler who waddled around in full Pampers all day. She was just being cranky. “Pwease, Nanny!” she sobbed.

And then, mercifully, Nanny did.

“That’s a good girl,” she cooed, her voice soft and sweet, but with a definite note of condescending satisfaction. “What a good baby. Well done for taking your punishment, little Mindy. I’m sure you’re right. You were just being a little cranky because of your yucky, stinky nappy! But I’m afraid I’m not going to change you anytime soon, sweetheart. Babies need to get used to being in full diapers. You need to learn that you’ll be changed at an adult’s convenience, not when it’s convenient for you. Is that clear?”

“Yes Nanny,” Mindy whimpered.

“Good girl! Now let’s get you over to the playroom. We’ve got some lovely programs for you to watch this afternoon. Isn’t that nice?”

Mindy sobbed and sniffled, but didn’t resist as she was led off to sit in front of the television in the nursery’s main room alongside all the other infantilised women, to stare into the screen and allow herself to slip further and further into her new life.

#mellowsadistic

[gaysheep]

like obv everyone has a right to access healthcare but i feel group programs trying to foster a neutral environment kind of results in me getting forced exposure therapy to people who want me dead on top of everything im already spending 11 hours a day getting rehab for

extra thoughts dumped under the cut so i don't type paragraphs in the tags

like ive been trying to Avoid venting im being a good noodle applying my therapy techniques and focusing on constructive activities + being optimistic about my progress it's genuinely improved my mood a lot im not just self censoring

im working this out in writing bc like. idk i feel like i should bring this up with my nurse because it's a conflict with the support environment and shit (sry for the therapy talk lol) so i wanna get my thoughts together

i don't resent being in rehab with conservatives but i do resent being the fuckin triggered lefty in the room when boot boy 1 and 2 are having a chat about how genetic freaks like me only exist because the wrong people are allowed to breed

if i said "well im entitled to my opinion that i don't think you should get a gold star for being disabled in the process of committing war crimes and its annoying as shit to hear you whine all day about how you used to be able bodied and its so hard to have the privilege of being enrolled in one of the best rehab programs in the country" i suspect id be in way more hot water with staff

i have a meeting w my nurse this afternoon so ill see how it goes ill give her a more civil version of this

#mine #vent

[dragooned-speaks]

Yay, first ask is exciting!

April Showers and May Flowers is a neat title, it sounds like it'll be a pretty fun one!

Writing for fandoms is hard...I tried a little bit but I never wrote very much because I just wasn't suited for it...I bet you'll do great tho bc I tend to give up too easy sometimes

Also word vomits are the best! Do it some more and talk about whatever you want, it's enjoyable!

I reached out bc I saw you read my Fallen Angel story earlier and I wanna thank you for the like, it was fun to see someone new show up since I'm not popular at all

Tell me about your ocs, if you don't mind!

Hello again! (Big word vomit under cut.) This is platonic ppl.

TWs: Abuse, emotional manipulation (does it count if it doesn't work?), dehumanization ig?, orphans, hybrids, spoilers for a future work?

April Showers should be the angst buildup and healing while May Flowers is the final healing and fluff.

So, there are four characters: Willa, Mina, Retribution (idk what his civillian name should be, so I'm taking suggestions!), and Tao. I have the character's physical traits (and a few more personality traits) and a bit of plot and worldbuilding before I write! So, I'll start with Willa, the protagonist!

Three are orphans and the other's parents aren't mentioned because I am not going through the pain of writing parents. This is a superhero (dystopian?) world about the classic superheroes aren't always good, but I made the villain adopters vigilante friends.

Willa is a she / her female who was born in May (see what I did?). Her power is a healing voice, like a switch when she sings. She's a nightingale avian hybrid and she's really quiet, and when she talks, she kinda half sings because her power works to some degree. Her power's drawback is after healing, her voice will get scratchy and hurt or just stop working, depending on the severity of the injury.

She wanted to help the heroes because they're good! ...Right? Well, they're not, and when she joins the Hero Healing Program (so creative, ik), she is immediantly singled out because she's an avian and her power doesn't have a CRAZY drawback like pain or... idk, so they try to force an imprint. Unknown to them, she imprinted on a certain hero trainee named... you guessed it, Mina. Of course, forced healing doesn't work half as well, but the Hero Corporate doesn't know that!

She's cautious and nervous because she has been punished for breathing too loud. Breathing too loud. Crazy, right? She preens herself, but she's self taught and the heroes clipped her wings to keep her around and a tracker. Later, she and Mina run away to Mina's friend Retribution. Slowly, she heals and we get May Flowers' fluff! They run away to be vigilantes, and she becomes Nightingale!

A background worker helping her friends, she gets a power to force people to dance lol. But she has stage fright.

Anyways, onto Mina! She joined the Hero Program because she looked up to heroes as a kid, believing the world to be black and white, so she joined the hero commitee to join the well, "good" side. Her power is luck bending, and she gives good luck to those she thinks is good and bad to those who she thinks are bad.

She's with Mina because they were roomed together as dormmates (is that a word?) and she's a work all day kind of person, but she will stay up until 4 to be with a friend, so she's pretty friendly to her allies. If you're a stranger, she'll ignore you. They became friends after Willa pushed these guys who were bullying Mina because she's a hybrid (because they were technically insulting her too). Mina's a moth hybrid, and also keeps a little canister of poison gas, hence why she wears a gas mask when patrolling.

She's the quiet, serious girl who always repays debts. At the age of 12, she was enrolled in the program (you can start at 10), and she joined as soon as possible. Around this time, Willa is like 9. Later she becomes Karma the vigilante after pretending to retire as a hero (they were too busy looking for a certain lost avian to notice lol). Also, her hero name was Mothra.

There's Lotl, another orphan, but he's crashing with Retribution. Lotl is a lizard / axolotl creature hybrid. He's based off the Tuatara lizard, the three eyed lizard that loses it later. He has a third eye that can scare most people to the point of paralysis, but that power disappears as he grows older, and subsequently, more human. He gains the power to control celestial matter (stars, nebula, etc) but he's like only a year older than Karma so he isn't able to do too much yet. Mainly using some weak sparks from stars to light up and some wind. He's close buds with Retribution, and he's like that one hero who poses for the news evem if he's illegal. He's chill, he's easygoing, and yeah. Karma tells him to hurry up and kick the bad guy already too often lol. Also, he can slit his eyes because cool stuff right there. His civillian name is Tio.

Finally, Retribution. He actually has parents (shocking I know) but we don't see them. They just kinda gave him a floor of the house and don't interact. His family's rich, but he doesn't really care. His power is emotion manipulation, and he always tries to talk before attacking. He sees enotions as clouds, colored dusty pibk to thundering, and can kinda cover his mind in clouds so mind readers can't read his mind. Speaking of, he can mind read in flashes of the clouds, and kinda paints the clouds to change emotions. He can do this best focusing on one person but if he focuses he can do it on a small crowd before almost passing out. He's scary serious, like way more than Karma, and he's really short, even though he's a few months older than Lotl, he's like 4'7.

#spoilers #umm #have a good day #my ocs #superhero #word vomit #peace out #dragoon rants #dragoon replies

[taechnological]

wait what field do you work in? i'm trying really hard to get into the dev industry (i think i wanna be a web developer) but it seems like i still have to learn fullstack to get in the door, but getting in the door without a cs degree or much experience seems far fetched 🙃 idk would love some insight on this if you know!

i'm a frontend software engineer! i did my bachelors in technology thru computer science and engineering tho... and you're right, it *is* a bit far stretched to get an IT job without a cs degree :/ but yes fullstack is kind of a must for web dev! for that u can do those online courses which give u certificates after course completion and also u can enroll in those online programming contests if u feel like you're ready for them, they're very beneficial fr!

#do u mind if i ask if youre still studying or working in another field #ask sae #ask taechnological

[psycholojosh]

I'm back in therapy....

Since the start of the new year, I've re-enrolled in psychotherapy once again. It's long overdue, in fact.

In May 2023, I got myself evaluated by a psychiatrist (who was comprehensive in his evaluation, unlike some) and got diagnosed with ADHD. (This can be for another story/post.) After that, I got myself started with medications. I take Ritalin (10mg/tab) as needed, so I only take it during work-heavy days or when I have scheduled clients for psychotherapy or assessments.

It's been helpful. But the timing of my diagnosis came with some unfortunate experiences and hardships in life (but some awesome and heartwarming ones too) plus a recently concluded therapy cycle from my previous therapist. When I would tell loved ones and peers about my diagnosis, they kept asking me, "So, kumusta ka after discovering that?", and I usually replied saying that I was okay. Spoiler alert: I apparently wasn't - and it was hard to recognize that early on.

Eventually, one challenge came after another and I just found myself in dark places mentally and emotionally. I took it upon myself to seek advice from people I trust and respect. My (proxy) program adviser, Doc Div, gave the most impactful one. (Again, could be another story.) She told me that my struggles, existential questions, and emotions are valid, and that I also owe it to myself to take care of me. And so I did.

Doc Div advised me not to return to my previous therapist (she/her) because, as the latter's supervisor, she didn't think that she could journey with me about these problems I had. So through the help of a colleague from work, I found a new one who he thought could help and I would resonate with well enough.

My new therapist's name is Teddi. She's based in the US but is a Filipina and a co-founder of a clinic in Metro Manila. We have online sessions. On the first session earlier this month, we immediately clicked (professionally, of course). And she immediately made me tear up and make me feel emotionally safe. And she actually understood me right away and already planted some seeds of insight to cultivate.

We just had our second session last night. I'm tempted to talk about it in-depth right now, but I think that would warrant whole other story. (Hahaha!) But, let's just say that this second session made me cry sad and hopeful tears. I felt like there's hope for me after all, and that even if the pathway to growing is painful and scary, I don't feel so alone.

For now, I wanna reflect on things she and I talked about. But, I wanted to share this here because maybe it could find someone who is struggling - maybe not in the same way - to seek help when they can.

Here's to growing... ❤️‍🩹

#rpmentries #filipino psychometrician #mental health #psychometrician #self care #adhd #adhder

[shyestofhearts]

Hi Shy~

Sooo, I have this headcanon that Damian is like this wonderful child prodigy genius. Like, super smart. So smart, that when Bruce tries to enroll him in Gotham academy, they tell him that Damian has tests for college level. Which, Damian just rolls his eyes at, because duh. After discussing it with professionals and yada yada, Damian gets enrolled into college. He’s like, twelve-ish. He is STILL bored in class, and knows most of the information they are trying to teach. His advisor is so sweet and invested into Damian though. And observant. After noticing Damian lack of enthusiasm, he asks Damian what the problem. Nothing interests him, none of his classes.this advisor is an old timer, in my opinion, and has seen so many kids pushed to do things they never wanted to do, and decides he can’t let that happen with Damian. So the Advisor pulls out every department, every major, and goes through it with Damian. After a few hours, because it takes a while to convince Damian that it is alright to do anything he wants, Damian has his majors narrowed down to a few things. Art and pre-med. Damian’s advisor suggests he visit a few of the clubs on campus to really get a feel of what he wants. Thing is, even after going to the students’ art club gallery and one of the pre-med club meetings, neither really speak to him. It’s a Saturday night, and he’s alone on campus. Damian is about to call Alfred, when a student from Damian’s organic chemistry class spots him.

“Damian!” Jace, a slightly round student with soft curly hair smiles at Damian. “Are you here for the show?”

“Show?” Damian scowls?

“Yeah, the fashion show. This year’s theme is sustainability,” Jace smiles. They one of the few people who never ogled at Damian for being a Wayne or looked down on him for his age. They are just genuinely nice, and Damian knows that.

“I didn’t know we had a fashion show,”

“Really? I swear I thought I mentioned it,” Jace says, surprised. Jace may have mentioned that, but Damian probably was zoned out during the time.“Tickets are $15, if you wanna come”

“Oh,” Damian frowns, “I used all the money I brought with me for the art gallery and lunch earlier,” He says, cursing internally for not bringing more cash with him.

“If you want to go, I’ll cover you.” Jace smiles, “Think of it as payment for help on our last exam” Damian would usually say no, but Jace is just so nice,

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah! Besides,” Jace smiles, turning towards the stadium, “I have a feeling you’re going to love it”

And Damian did love it. The designs were amazing, some more haute couture while others were casual, and each designer explained how their designs involved sustainability. Some were statement pieces, designed to address political issues, others were just to demonstrate that sustainability could still be cute, and while others highlighted affordability and sustainability.

Damian wanted to do this. Running through his head were endless possibilities. Perhaps he can enlist the help of Poison Ivy to create a vegan leather that was also bullet resistant, or…

The next Monday he is waiting for his advisor at 7 in the morning, because he spent the rest of the weekend coming up with ideas, sketches, creating a portfolio, and practicing hypothetical arguments as to why Damian should go into fashion. At 7:15 his advisor sees him, and can tell by the light in Damian’s eyes, determination on his face, and the way he’s clutching his sketchbook, Damian has found it.

“I want into the fashion program!” Damian all but bursts, unconsciously on his tippy toes in excitement.

“Okay,” His advisor smiles, ushering him into his office. “Let’s make it happen”

“Just like that?” Damian asks, eyes wide, voice surprisingly small. His advisor smiles at him kindly.

“I’ll do whatever I can to make it happen.”

It takes a bit before Damian can actually get into the program, he has to work on some prerequisites, and also create a better portfolio with samples, but Damian is determined. By the end of the school year, he has been accepted.

Damian doesn’t tell his family, not in the beginning. He actually doesn’t want to tell his friends either, unsure of how they’d react. He is still insecure, and just entering his teen years. He worries about what any or everyone will say. Eventually, though he tells Jon and Colin, swearing them to secrecy. They both are excited for him, asking if he’d design their costumes for them. Damian blushes but says,

“Tt, like you can afford me”

He eventually tells Alfred as well, because he needs help learning how to use a sewing machine, and fast. Sure, he can stitch someone up flawlessly, but sewing machines weren’t part of the League’s lessons. Alfred is in charge of the one at the Manor, so it only makes sense to ask him. Even so, Damian is reluctant. When he does finally ask, he nearly gives himself an attack, worrying about being scolded for not using his “full potential”. Alfred simply squeezes Damian’s shoulder, and agrees with a kind smile. The young Master finally seemed passionate about something besides vigilante work and violence. Alfred would do everything in his power to foster that.

“Just,” Damian looks down, hands clenching into fists at his side, “Do not tell the others. I would prefer this between us,” He looks at Alfred, unsuccessfully trying to hide the vulnerability in his wide emerald eyes. Alfred agrees, for now. On the conditions that Damian would have to tell his father and siblings himself, and not to far in the future either.

Damian impresses everyone with his designs, and people learn he is actually quite adorable when he’s doing something he enjoys. His classmates and professors encourage him to join the fall fashion show, which is covering “multiculturalism and the media”. Damian hesitantly agrees, though he has been making designs since the theme was announced. His room is full of crumbled paper on his floor, designs he deigned not good enough. Many of his designs are heavily influenced by his Arab culture, but he also has some Chinese-influenced designs as well. His statement piece is the hardest to get right. It involves a hijab and beautiful colors, but he just can’t get the right patter. Ripping another page and crumpling it,Damian is too concentrated to realized Tim and Dick have been creeping into his room.

“What’s this Dames?” Dick asks, startling Damian, as he looks at some of the rejected designs. Panic makes Damian defensive as he yells at them to get out, frustration fueling the dread of his family seeing such unsatisfactory work. Tim flinches, shocked by the emotion coming off of Damian, rushing out with a few crumpled papers he snuck from the floor. Damian is literally trying to shove Dick out the door. Dick turns around, because he can hear the panic in his little brother’s voice. In his Robin’ voice. “Damian,” he says softly, easily deflecting Damian. “It’s okay,” he says, wrapping his arms around Damian, reversing the situation. “What’s wrong, why are you reacting like this?” After a few minutes of struggling, Damian gives up. Slowly,he explains the situation, how he’s in the fashion program and the fashion show coming up, all the pressure to do well, the frustration of not having his statement piece yet. Dick listens, his hold turning into a hug. “From what I’ve seen,” Dick says softly, “these are all wonderful designs,Dami. Whatever you end up making will look amazing, if they look anything like your sketches.”

“It’s not enough!” Damian complains, eyes burning, but he refuses to cry. “You don’t understand!” He says, frustrated.

“Then explain it to me, why is this so important?”

“Because it is about me!” Damian’s voice cracks ask he turns away rosiness his eyes harshly. “When I was introduced to the public, as “Bruce Wayne’s biological son”, do you not remember how the newspapers reacted? They didn’t know me, or my mother, but because—because of my skin, the country I was born, I was mistrusted. Scorned. Yeah, maybe I’ve killed people, but that isn’t because of my skin color or my culture or the language I speak. I have this opportunity to speak out against that!” Damian turns to look at Dick, “I’ve tried to become better, to do better. It’s hard and unfair that none of that matters, because guests are invited to galas hosted in the house that I live in, only to make snide racist comments about “nukes” or the desert or bombs whenever Father and you all aren’t around me. How can I be better, when I’m not given the chance because people can’t see past my skin?” Dick wraps Damian into a tight hug, as wetness drips down Damian’s cheeks. “I’ve been here nearly four years—and it still happens” Damian whispers.

“Why didn’t you say anything Dami?”

“What could I say?” Damian whispers back,

“Bruce—”

“Invites these people because they are important to Wayne Enterprise.” He scoffs. “What could you do, especially if I have no proof?”

“Believe me, Damian,” Dick says seriously, pulling back to look into Damian’s eyes. “Bruce won’t invite anyone who’s racist or derogatory towards his children, back to a gala, let alone do business with him again.” He smiles a hard somewhat vicious smile. “I know because when I was first adopted, he did that for me” Damian’s eyes widen. “And if Bruce can’t defend you, you can bet your brothers will,” Damian looks unsure, but nods. “But I get it now. You’ve always used art to vent and express yourself. This design is something that would allow you to address what the media has done to and said about you.”

“It’s been,” Damian shrugs, looking down, “therapeutic. In a way I never imagined it would be.”

“Well, I think, whatever you end up designing will be amazing,” Dick smiles, and Damian looks up at the sincerity, giving his own smile smile in response. “And I expect an invitation to the fashion show!” He chuckles, causing Damian to blush. “And I bet the whole family would want to come as well,” Damian blushes, looking away once more.

“Tickets are $15 each, and available online,” Damian replies, making Dick belly laugh. “You can invite the others, if you’d like” Damian mumbles.

“Hmm,how ‘bout I invite the siblings while you invite your dad,” Damian grumbles, but agrees. “Great! Now, take a break. One night not designing won’t hurt you.” Dick says, wrapping his arm around Damian’s shoulder. ‘Might do you some good, in fact.”

Things get better after that, because after his talk with Dick, Damian gets an idea for his design. Ziba, a Persian student Damian met in his Literature class, agreed to be his model for his statement piece. She wore her hijab proudly, a solid black color, which helped with the down-to-business look the rest of the outfit screamed. Ziba’s makeup was beautiful, as Damian was putting the last touches on her. They both were quiet, nervous excitement pulsing through them both. Ziba had on white trousers that flared out a bit, to give an almost flowy feel, with black basic vegan leather square pointed toe mule flat accented by a silver buckle. Damian had made the top a cross between a tunic, a blazer, and a cape. It is white, and goes over a plain solid black turtleneck. Printed on both the buttoned blazer tunic top and the trousers are past racist articles written about Damian. In red graffiti styled letters sprayed across the news paper articles are phrases like “Lies” “Warped Perception” “Western POV” “Racist” “I was only 10”. The red paint matches the red lipstick Ziba is wearing.

Damian was nervous with his family in the audience, everyone including Alfred was there. Apparently Superman and Superboy were in attendance too, as civilians of course. Colin was there too. Damian had told his father about the fashion show, and was surprised to see how supportive he was about it. Of course that may have been the shock, as Damian had told him that morning before leaving for school. Bruce blinked, stood up and hugged Damian, before saying he couldn’t wait for the show.

Damian’s set is the last, ask the show is in alphabetical order according to last names. When it’s his turn, all of his model’s line up, and Damian is running around making sure everything is perfect. He hears the speaker introduce his collection, inviting Damian to join him on stage. Damian rushes out, brown cheeks turn red. Together they introduce all seven outfits of the collection one by one, as Damian describes his designs, the material, and the inspiration behind each one. When it get’s to Ziba’s turn, Damian’s nearly choked up. He manages to discuss this piece and it’s significance to him. At the end, Damian received a standing ovation from nearly everyone. Looking over at his family, he has to duck from hiding his flamed cheeks. All his siblings were cheering for him, while Bruce and Dick dab their eyes. Alfred has a proud look on his face, and Damian couldn’t have been happier.

He ends up getting second place, but also his own work room at the Manor. Damian begins selling his work after getting it patented (Tim demanded it), and is surprised when a number of orders are for the galas around Gotham. Dick told Bruce and the others about all the things Damian has been hearing at Galas, and they are justifiably angry. Duke begins chants of “Eat the Rich” every time he hears someone says something problematic about Damian, and that because Tim’s signal on who to take down next.

Damian’s designs become more widely popular as his family starts wearing them, as they love talking about it and how he uses sustainable methods and materials. This earns him big named clients, who start wearing Damian’s designs on the Red Carpet and premiers . Damian also likes to do work for charity, often donating dresses to high schoolers who cannot afford prom dresses or making clothes out of extra material to donate to shelters so people have clothes for job interviews and such.

(He also makes his pets clothes when he’s bored, so it’s normal to see Titus wearing a doggy hoodie with slits in it for his ears)

ANYWAYS, this is my headcanon lol

What do think about it?

—🧵🪡

Headcanon?? Bestie this a whole ass au!

As for my thoughts-

💳 💥💥 💳 💥💥💥 💳 💥💥💥💥

#shy's asks #sewing anon #anon #damian wayne #batfamily #batfam #dc comics #ANON PLEASE #ANON I LOVE THIS?? #ANON IS A GENIUS #ITS LIKE 3AM AND IM BARELY COHERENT #BUT NOW I CANT STOP THINKING OF THIS AU #Anon I hope both sides of your pillow are cool tonight #I hope your blanket is softer that a cloud #long post

[gotxanyxramen]

MC claps back pt.3😂

TW: bullying, clapping back

It was right before class started, you were sitting at your desk, when a random girl came up to you and started to insult you.

"Do you really think people like you? You're nothing but a pathetic human, not even an attractive one at that. The only reason you not dead yet is because you're part of the exchange program, and Lord Diavolo would have a hissy fit if his reputation was ruined cuz you died." She said.

"And I think you'd have a hissy fit if I told you look like a before picture. You'd also probably have a hissy fit if I went and told lord diavolo that you enjoy picking on people for their looks and race."

"If you just want attention from insulting others go screw yourself, in the end it's MY world and it's quite easy for me to act like you mother never pushed you into it. You don't exist if I don't want you to."

"you little- ugh! I going to make you wish you never came into the devildom" she says.

With that she storms out of the class room. Everyones mouths were dropped and their eyes were on you.

"She must have been born from a cactus cuz she's a prick."

Diavolo:

When he got wind of what happened he was both furious and amused

Furious because someone called his lover "pathetic"

Amused because of what you said

Hes so proud of you

He'll take you wherever you want to go, buy you expensive gifts, cuddle you, dance with you, anything

Later when you both cuddling in bed, he'll have you close to him, while he whispers praises, and words of affirmation

"my dear, I'm so glad You stood up for yourself. Since you've came here you've changed lives with your kindness and beauty, especially me. "

Next day at school you see the girl is no longer enrolled there and there is no trace of her.

Barbatos:

He already knew it was going to happen

That's why he hypeing you up earlier

"I love you my sweet, everyone else does to"

"Thanks barb, I love you too ☺️"

Once he finds out it finally did happen he's kinda mad about it cuz someone insulted you

He'll cook your favorite and you guys will eat together

Later on when it's bedtime he'll make sure you have enough pillows and blankets, he wants you to be comfortable.

He'll cuddle you while running his fingers through you hair

"good night my sweet, I hope you have dreams as beautiful as you are"

Next day at school, you learn the girl is now in military school (what ever the devildom equivalent to that is 😂)

Solomon:

He was there

He was CACKLING

he could NOT breath

He has never laughed that hard in all the time he been alive

He laughed so hard he cried from it

He embarrassed that girl from laughing so hard

Embarrassed as in she doesn't even look at you anymore 🤣

He'll try to cook for you but you have to stop him

He orders pizza

He'll offer to help you practice magic

When your both cuddling in bed, he'll be hypeing you up

"I have the best s/o. Like the absolute best. how can someone not like you. I love you. Just like everyone else.

That girl doesn't bother you anymore cuz Solomon embarrassed her.

Simeon:

When he found out what happened he was shocked

He was proud of you for standing up for yourself.

But he was upset that someone said such mean things about you.

He'll take you anywhere, or if you just wanna stay home, he'll cook for you or even let you help him. It'll be a cooking date!

You, him and Luke will watch a movie together

After luke is in bed you both head to bed aswell

Mabye both of you take a bath together

And after that he'll cuddle you

He'll whisper sweet nothings and praises untill you fall asleep

"sweet dreams my dove. I love you very much, everyone else does also. But especially me, heaven only knows how much you mean to me.

Next day the girl apologizes and then says she's changing schools.

AN: OMG I did it, all parts I'm proud of my self.

I hope you all enjoyed! I love all of you!

-ramen

#obey me x reader #obey me crack #obey me diavolo x reader #obey me barbatos x reader #obey me solomon x reader #simeon x reader

[wingsofkpop]

Hiraeth - I.IX: Bloodborne

pairing(s): Hybrid!Im Jaebeom x Reader, Witch!Mark Tuan x Reader, Werewolf!Jackson Wang x Reader, Vampire!Park Jinyoung x Reader, Supernatural!Got7 x Reader

genre: Supernatural!AU, Dark Magic!AU, heavy Angst, eventual Smut

warnings: Mature language, mentions of death and murder, violence, explicit descriptions of fighting, blood and gore, some satanic themes, mentions of trauma, etc. 

word count: 6,5k

synopsis: How far are you willing to go to find out the truth about Moon Dye Bay?…

chapter directory

“—so once Youngjae channels enough power from the blood moon tonight, he’ll be able to lower the veil between the Other Side and the physical plane long enough to resurrect your spirit into a mortal body.” You explain, glancing over your notes at the unusually quiet figure sitting on your bed. Something about his expression seems distant—almost sorrowful. 

After your return from the hospital, and after the long chat with your roommate convincing her that your absence all night was due to a last minute work emergency, a certain ghost phased into your bedroom. You wouldn’t allow yourself to be this concerned, but during his visits, Jackson usually never shuts up. If you were all alone with no one to talk to, you probably wouldn’t either. 

You lower your notebook and shake your head, “You haven’t said one word since you showed up. What’s wrong?”

Jackson purses his lips, as if nervous to relay the thoughts swirling through his mind. Another brief moment of silence passes before he finally murmurs, “It’s the witches. They’re starting to get suspicious again… I don’t know how long I have before they figure out I’ve been crossing over to this plane.”  

“Then we’ll just have to bring you back before they find out.” You grab your phone from your desk, checking through your notifications to see if a certain siphoner has yet responded to your dozens of texts and calls. No dice. 

You haven’t been able to reach Youngjae since yesterday morning, which is odd considering the guy is the type to respond within three seconds of receiving a message. It would be one thing if he let you know that he’s busy, but it’s complete radio silence. It’s not like Youngjae at all. 

“You’re worried about something.” 

Your eyes dartup at Jackson’s observation, discovering his concerned gaze focused on you. 

“It’s Youngjae.” You sigh, “I haven’t heard from him, but I’m sure he’s just busy brewing potions or something.” You expect to earn at least a chuckle from the ghost, but his silence remains along with the blank expression along his face. His same distant demeanor also lingers, and this time, your concern grows to panic. “What is it, Jackson? What’s going on?” 

“I didn’t want to say anything cause I was sure it was all in my head, but I feel that something is… weird.” 

“Weird?” 

“It’s hard to explain.” He continues, “But as a ghost, I can feel things around me… like right now, the universe just seems off—” His voice cuts out as he frantically shakes his head, “Anyway, I just want you to be careful. Mark used to tell me that disrupting the balance of nature is like opening Pandora’s box.” 

“Yeah. We will be doing none of that.” You set your phone down before crossing the room to kneel in front of Jackson. A grin lifts to your lips as you hum to the ghost, “So what do you feel when you’re around me?...” 

Jackson raises an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?” 

“You said you feel things around you… Do you feel anything special when you’re with me?” 

You’re surprised at the eagerness that swells in your chest as he takes his time to think over your question. The inquiry was supposed to be a joke to lighten the mood, but you’re actually curious about your companion’s ghastly perceptions. After maybe a minute or two, Jackson sends you a small smile: 

“I feel… light.” 

“Light? What is that supposed to mean?” 

“You have this aura around you.” Jackson affirms, mindlessly reaching forward thumb at your cheek. You obviously can’t feel his touch, but something in your gut tells you that if you could, you would feel nothing but warmth. “I feel powerful when I’m with you…” 

“Is that a good thing?”  

He grins, “I think so.” 

You continue to stare at one another for a moment, almost attempting to read the depths in each other’s eyes. It’s not until a harsh knock resonates from the front door do you finally break the gaze, offering Jackson a final hum, “I’ll bring you back as soon as I can. I promise.” 

Jackson nods, “I know you will. But like I said, please be careful.” 

“I will. See you soon.” You wait for Jackson to disappear completely before exiting your bedroom, cursing Sana for leaving you to deal with whoever is incessantly banging on your door. It’s probably the old lady from across the hall wanting to borrow another cup of sugar. You roll your eyes at the thought and open the door, ready to politely decline your neighbor’s request.

Your words die on your tongue—definitely not the old lady from across the hall.  

“Mark? What are you—?” 

“What? Not expecting to see me?” Mark’s hostile growl takes you by surprise, as does the furious expression etched along his features. “That’s not surprising since you’ve been ignoring me.” 

“I’ve been busy.” 

“Oh. I’m sure.” 

You cross your arms over your chest. “What the hell is your problem?” 

“You wanna know what my problem is?” Mark takes a step closer to you before pointing a finger in your direction, “The fact that you not only lie to me, but you go behind my back and then deliberately avoid me for days on end.” 

“What are you even talking about, Mark?” 

“I’m talking about you and Youngjae playing God and resurrecting Jackson.” 

Your muscles instantly freeze, as if Mark had taken a tub of ice water and thrown it over your head. The annoyance inside your chest shifts to guilt, and your once cold features cannot help but soften. 

You shake your head, “Mark, I—” 

“Do you know how dangerous it is to bring someone back from the dead, (Y/N)?” Mark lowers his voice, but his tone remains as frigid as his gaze. “Do you know the consequences that happen when you fuck with the balance of nature?” 

“I get that, but—it’s complicated, Mark… There’s things you don’t understand—” 

“I don’t understand!?” He scoffs, “Last I checked, I’m the goddamn witch here, (Y/N)! You know nothing about magic and its sacrifice!” 

“Maybe not, but I do know that there is a chance I could bring Jackson back!” You shake your head again, “Please, just give me a chance to explain—” 

“No. Because it’s not fucking happening.” Mark interrupts, furiously shaking his own head. “I forbid you to do this.” 

It’s like a switch goes off in your mind. Your guilt immediately transforms, but this time, it configures into rage: 

“You forbid me!? Who the flying fuck do you think you are!?”

“I won’t sit back and allow you to get yourself killed—!” 

“And last I checked, you don’t have the right to control what I do and the decisions I make!” You seethe, stepping further back into your apartment. “This is my choice. I’m resurrecting Jackson whether you like it or not.” 

“Fine! Get yourself fucking killed for all I care!” The witch raises his hands in mock surrender. “At least then I won’t have to deal with your reckless, moronic ass!”

“Fuck you, Mark.” You don’t allow the witch to say anything further and slam the door in his face. Your chest remains unbearably heavy, both physically and mentally, but you ignore the sweltering emotions and begin to traverse around the apartment, gathering your bag and other assorted belongings. 

A confused and rather concerned Sana emerges from her bedroom a few seconds later. “Are you okay? What was with all that yelling?” 

“Don’t worry about it,” You huff, shoving your arms through the sleeves of your jacket. “Just Mark being a douchebag, as per usual.” 

“Where are you going?” 

“To find Youngjae.”

“Isn’t it kind of late?” 

“I’m an adult, Sana.” You snap before throwing your bag over your shoulder. “Don’t wait up for me.” 

Similar to Mark, you don’t allow Sana the chance to question you further and sprint out the front door, praying that Youngjae will be up to bringing Jackson back in the next few hours. 

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Mark has never exercised the greatest control over his emotions. It first began when he was twelve, after his dad walked out on his mom. He found himself sobbing his eyes out some days, and beating the shit out of other kids on others. His mood ranged from intense rage to extreme depression. There was no in between. 

In an effort to help, his mom enrolled him in a program designed to teach teens how to handle their emotions. But to no one’s surprise, the therapy didn’t do shit and Mark continued to initiate fights and cry himself to sleep most nights. He never understood why he felt this way—he still doesn’t, to be honest. His dad and him were never close, nor did he ever really care about his sudden departure. Maybe he was just an angry kid with depression. Maybe it was something else. 

It wasn’t until his mom was killed did Mark begin to pull his life together, which also happened to be around the same time he met the too-friendly, homeschooled kid with an ego the size of Jupiter, Jackson Wang. Sure, the two of them butted heads every so often, but with Jackson being a werewolf, Mark learned the importance of managing the chaos within. ‘Emotion is like a loaded gun,’ he remembers Jackson once said, ‘If you let yourself pull the trigger without first aiming down sights, then you risk sinking a bullet into someone you love.’ Those words remain with him—remind him what means to stay in control. 

But when it involves the people he loves, Mark can’t always regulate the ticking bomb counting down in his soul. 

An ache settles in his chest as he recalls the passionate fire in your gaze. There’s always been some parts of you that reminds Mark of his past friend, specifically your stubbornness and inability to think before you act. He’s never found himself hating those parts of you until now—and he shouldn’t, Mark knows that, but he’s so fucking angry and so fucking scared of losing yet another one of the most important people in his life.

He’s experienced his fair share of loss, but losing you… It would break him. Completely. 

Mark tries to push the intrusive thoughts from the forefront of his mind and focus on navigating his way through the dark maze of headstones and crumbling tombs. Right after you slammed your front door in his face, he received a text from Youngjae summoning him, Jisung and Lia to an emergency meeting at the edge of the cemetery. He’s still mad at the siphoner for assisting with your reckless scheme, but he won’t allow his pettiness to interfere with the safety of the coven. 

A sigh falls from his lips—he does regret ever saying those ending words to you though… because what if they’re the last ones you hear from him. 

‘I’m so sorry, Jackson…’ 

Mark’s misery is forgotten when he notices a group of people up ahead. He recognizes Lia, Jisung and Youngjae flocked together inside a chalk-white circle surrounded by lit torches. For a moment, Mark wonders if they’re in the middle of performing some type of seance, but his curiosity dwindles into confusion when he grows aware of the panic present in each set of their features. 

He breaks into a sprint to cover more distance, approaching the strangely placed trio in no time. At the sight of him, Lia immediately bursts into tears, furthering the anxiety bubbling at the back of his throat. 

“What the hell is going on!?” 

“Hyung! You have to get out of here right now!” Mark notices the swollen, angry flesh of Youngjae’s bottom lip as he speaks, along with the ugly bruise underneath his left eye. 

“What happened?” He ignores the siphoner’s warnings, attempting to reach inside the circle and grab Lia’s arm. However, his hand is met with resistance—a boundary spell. “Who did this to you?” 

Lia sobs, “Just go, Mark! Before he hurts you!” 

“Before who hurts me!? What are you—” His demands die in his throat as another figure appears from behind a large, marble gravestone. He immediately recognizes the newcomer, which sends even more confusion through his veins. “Seo Changbin? What the hell is this?” 

“It’s an emergency meeting, hyung.” Mark feels his entire body freeze when the familiar, conniving voice enters his ears. “You had me a little worried… I almost thought you wouldn’t show up.” 

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” Mark whirls around to face a smirking Minho cockily leaning against the wall of an empty tomb. “What kind of game do you think you’re playing, Minho?”

The younger witch shrugs before pushing off the wall to pace around the area. As he draws closer and closer, Mark can spy an ancient, navy blue ring sitting heavily on his forefinger. He’s never seen any piece of jewelry like it before, but something in his gut told him it wasn’t just a simple ring—and that he’s definitely in some kind of trouble. 

“Mind explaining to me what we’re doing here? Or are you just going to continue pacing around the place like a cocky bastard?” 

“Tonight is a special night, hyung… You wanna know why?” He watches Minho point to the night sky, “In just a few minutes, the moon will drift into the Earth’s shadow and the light of the sun will reflect across the moon’s surface, thus causing a blood moon… It’s actually pretty cool—” 

“For Christsake, Minho—get to the goddamn point.”

“You know, for years I had to deal with all your bullshit excuses and justifications of putting our coven in danger—it was only a matter of time until one of us ended up dead, don’t you think?” 

A bitter memory of Nayeon’s corpse resurfaces, but Mark remains silent. 

“Everyone was too fucking blind, but I saw right through you.” Mark doesn’t move a muscle when Minho suddenly approaches, crowding his space until his nose is mere inches from brushing his own. The younger witch’s harsh glare bleeds into his soul as he continues, “You’re a poor fucking excuse for a leader, hyung—a leader who can’t even protect his own people.” 

“And you think you can do better, huh?” Mark growls, glaring his own daggers into Minho’s gaze. “You have no fucking clue what it takes to run this coven… Admit it, you’re just pissed they chose me over you.” 

“And look where that got them.” 

“You need to cut out whatever petty bullshit this is and let Youngjae, Jisung and Lia go.” Mark murmurs, “Whatever problems you have are with me, so let’s just talk it out, okay?” 

“Oh, Mark-hyung…” Minho’s gaze is unwavering from his own as he lifts a hand to rest on Mark’s shoulder. It’s a second too late that Mark realizes it is the same hand in which holds the mysterious ring: 

“I’m over talking it out.” 

Youngjae’s screams and Lia’s sobs echo in his ears along with the words that spill from Minho’s lips—they’re foreign, but Mark recognizes the spell right away. He tries to squirm and fight against the perpetrator’s grip, but another pair of hands keep his body in place—Changbin. 

Bit by bit, Mark feels the buzz of his magic lift from his veins like a flock of doves. His limbs grow weak and his head fuzzy. Soon enough, his own knees no longer bear the strength to hold his weight. Once both Minho and Changbin release him, Mark collapses to the ground—empty and unable to rise. 

“What did you do to him!?” Mark hears Jisung’s voice for the first time, although his brain is not fully able to comprehend the inquiry. 

“I took his magic. He won’t be needing it anymore.” 

Mark manages to find enough strength to reposition his body in a way that allows him to watch both Minho and Changbin approach a makeshift altar composed of an old, concrete coffin. Through the blur of his vision, he catches the witch stirring some kind of crimson mixture—likely blood. Minho looks to the moon, which is slowly brightening to a shade of maroon, before resting his gaze on his companion: 

“It’s time.” He offers the mixture to Changbin, “Once you drink this, I can begin the transformation.” 

“And you’re sure this spell will give me everything I need to take down the Primes?” 

“One hundred percent.” 

Take down the Primes?… Fucking hell. 

“Minho! Don’t do this!” Mark can’t make out his own voice between the ringing of his ears and the beating of his heart, but he can only hope they’re audible enough for his audience. “The transformation—it won’t work!” 

Youngjae shakes his head. “I don’t understand… What are you talking about, hyung?” 

“He’s going to try to recreate the spell I used on Jackson on Changbin.” With a huff and a puff, Mark pushes himself to his hands and knees. He attempts to crawl forward, but the spinning of his head sends his body sprawling along the ground once again. He abandons any more thoughts of movement and speaks to Minho directly, “It will kill him—do you understand me!? You can’t—” 

“You failed because you couldn’t draw enough power to complete the transformation.” Minho doesn’t even bother to look in his direction, “It will work—I know it will.”

Understanding there’s no possible way to convince the witch, Mark looks to the werewolf instead, “I’m warning you, Changbin! If you go through with this, you will die!” 

“Don’t listen to him. Just drink the blood.” 

“No! For fucksake, this is suicide!” 

“Think of Jackson.” Minho murmurs to a torn Changbin, reaching across the altar to place a supportive hand on his shoulder. “Do it for him.” 

“Changbin, don’t—!” 

Mark watches in horror as Changbin throws back the mixture and downs its entirety in two gulps. His heart shatters like the glass vial the werewolf launches to the ground. He peers to his left, discovering the same shocked expressions across Youngjae, Jisung and Lia’s faces, and shakes his head in defeat as Lia begins to sob again. 

“Filia maximo… Filia maximo… Morsus, morsus—” The wind begins to screech as Minho chants, tearing at Mark’s hair and nudging at his clothes, as if pleading for him to stop the spell. But there’s nothing he can do. For once, Mark is powerless. “—morsus… Advenio donec duo est revertus mors…” With a loud scream, Changbin collapses to the earth. He squirms and writhes in pain underneath the flaming light of the moon—and Mark can’t help but attempt to block out the snaps of his cracking bones. 

The scene seems to last for hours until Changbin eventually grows silent. Mark takes the time to catch his breath, unable to control his lungs over the anxiety, fear and nausea lurking through his veins. He wants to look away from the still werewolf, but his gaze is as frozen as the rest of his body. 

His eyes burn with tears of rage—Changbin is dead. Another person died because of his own fucking stupidity. Mark should have known this would happen again. He should have stopped it. He should have—

His thoughts disappear as Changbin suddenly gasps for air. For a moment, he claws at the earth as if attempting to ground himself, before he finally, albeit shakily, climbs to his feet. Minho cautiously approaches the wolf, peering down at the shorter male with a gaze full of concern. 

“How do you feel?...” 

“I feel…” Changbin flexes his fingers again, before closing them into tight fists. The moonlight illuminates the crimson glow of his irises and the sharpness of his long, black fangs as he faces the witch—a malicious smirk spreading along his lips as he chuckles, “I feel like kicking some ancient Prime ass.” 

Mark can’t find the strength to watch anymore and allows his head to lower to the earth. Just before his eyes flutter shut, he swears he spots the movement of shadows from behind a nearby headstone. But before he can confirm his suspicions, his head takes one final spin and the world grows dark. 

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

June 13th, 1769 — As much as I enjoy the atmosphere of Paris, I believe it is time to progress onto another part of the world. Some of the townsfolk are beginning to grow suspicious, considering I appear twenty years younger than my supposed age. Nevertheless, I will not mind a new start elsewhere. Jaebeom, on the other hand, will be a terror to convince. As he claimed last time I brought the idea to light, ‘There will never be a place more beautiful than Paris.’

But I know he is not through playing with his newest toy—Tzuyu. 

I set sail for the newlands tomorrow at sunrise. Whether my brother decides to accompany me or not is solely his preference. It would be pleasant to spend some time apart—to spend some time in peace—but I know, with many complaints and reluctance, Jaebeom will board the ship tomorrow. Wherever I traverse, he follows, and vice versa. We are family, after all. 

I will miss Notre Dame the most. I have grown used to visiting the Cathedral and repenting my wrongdoings to the high priest. Of course, I am forced to erase his memory of our talks each time, but it is nice to confess. It lifts a weight off of the shoulders, takes away a small portion of the guilt. If there is a god, he would never allow a creature like me to walk amongst his heavens—but at least I can salvage the lingering hope left inside of my soul. Speaking of hope, I thought I saw a woman that resembled Irene during my daily visit to the church. I find it amusing that after all these years, my heart continues to yearn for her presence. She was truly special—I wonder if she ever thought the same of me. 

I’ve heard some of the sailors refer to a shore in the newland that has yet to be claimed. It may be the perfect location for Jaebeom and I to start anew.  I can only hope it is as beautiful as people say. Maybe I will construct a place of worship as stunning as the Cathedral. 

Isn’t that ironic?... A vampire who believes in faith. 

Jinyoung finishes the entry with a sigh, welcoming the nostalgia that spreads through his thoughts like an old friend. It seems just yesterday that he recorded his first thoughts about the land that would become Moon Dye Bay. He shakes his head, carefully setting the old journal back on the bookshelf. 

He never did build that church. 

“Reminiscing again, brother?” The moment is ruined when a certain hybrid’s snicker reaches his ears. Jinyoung rolls his eyes as Jaebeom takes residence beside him, dragging his fingers along the spines of Jinyoung’s other diaries. “We did have some great times back in the 18th century… Remember our battles during the French Revolution? I rather enjoyed King Louis and Marie Antoinette’s executions.” 

“You enjoy anything that involves bloodshed.” 

“Don’t be so resentful, Jinyoungie. It’s not my fault that the queen had you in her interests.” 

Jinyoung shakes his head before retreating to his desk to fix himself a drink. “The woman was as shallow as a poor soul’s ego. She was taken with any man who’d pay her the time of day. It was a miracle her death came as quickly as it did.” 

“Careful there. You sound like me.” 

Jinyoung deliberately chooses not to respond to Jaebeom’s comment and proceeds to pour two glasses of bourbon. He ignores his companion’s wide smirk as he hands him one of the drinks. Both the vampire and the hybrid simultaneously take a sip, peering at one another over the rims of their cups. Jaebeom is the first to break the silence with a pleased inhale and a hum: 

“You returned pretty late last night. I hope you used protection during your time with (Y/N).” 

“Mind your tongue, hyung.” Jinyoung warns, “I brought (Y/N) to the hospital after the attack—I trust you took care of Tzuyu?” 

Jaebeom smirks. “Of course. She won’t be alive long enough to target your newest Maria Antonia again.” 

About to inhale another sip of his bourbon, Jinyoung pauses to mull over the answer. He lowers his glass to his side before delivering Jaebeom a confused expression and a murmured inquiry, “What do you mean she won’t be alive?” 

“Tzuyu and I got into an argument and, well, she pissed me off.” Jinyoung watches Jaebeom down the rest of his drink. 

“Please tell me you didn’t bite her, Jaebeom-hyung.” He curses at the widening of Jaebeom’s smirk, slamming his glass back down on his desk with enough force to crack its exterior. “When I told you to deal with her, I didn’t mean condemn her to a fate of pain. If you wished to kill her, you could have at least been merciful and done it quick.” 

“Last I checked, you said it yourself not to be kind.” Jinyoung follows Jaebeom as he pours himself another drink and collapses onto a brown, leather sofa. He tips his glass toward him with a smile before continuing, “I thought the punishment fit the crime, and we wouldn’t want to put helpless, human (Y/N) in danger again, would we?” 

“You turned it off, didn’t you?” Jinyoung realizes, “Does holding onto your humanity wound you that badly, hyung? That you have no choice but to wish it away?” 

“If I remember correctly, I’m not the only one that can’t hold onto their humanity… How many people did you kill in the ‘20s alone? One thousand? Maybe two?” 

Jinyoung shakes his head, “I’m not that person anymore.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” In the blink of an eye, Jaebeom is in front of Jinyoung—his glass in pieces on the floor beside him. He leans in until Jinyoung can taste the alcohol of his breath on his tongue, then whispers darkly, “You can lie to yourself all you fucking want, Jinyoung. But deep down, you’ll always know what you are… let’s just hope (Y/N) never finds out, hm?” 

At the mention of your name, Jinyoung’s anger expands. He suppresses the urge to take the table beside him and smash it over the hybrid’s head, and instead inhales a deep breath. Jaebeom is only trying to provoke him—and he refuses to be a pawn in his foolish games. 

“You will remember what it was like to feel human again.” Jinyoung sighs, “For your sake, I hope your remembrance comes sooner rather than later.” 

Jaebeom tsks, “Being human is overrated.” 

“He said the same thing about fate.” Both Jinyoung and Jaebeom whirl around at the appearance of a third voice. Jinyoung feels his blood begin to boil at the sight of the familiar vampire in the doorway, once again, suppressing his desire to launch a piece of furniture in her direction. “Ironically, fate and humanity are a package deal.” 

Jaebeom growls, “What the fuck are you doing here, Tzuyu?” 

“I came to try and convince you to give me your blood.” Tzuyu coughs, and Jinyoung swears he can hear the rattle of her bones. “But judging by your attitude, that’s obviously going to be harder than I thought.” 

“You have courage for showing your face again.” Jinyoung crosses his arms with a dark hum, “Especially so soon after you nearly killed (Y/N).”

“It wasn’t my intention to kill her. I just wanted to send a message.” 

“Is that so?” With a malicious glare, Jinyoung steps forward and tilts his head toward the vampire, “And what kind of message was that?” 

“For (Y/N) to stay away from Jaebeom.” Another violent cough wracks through Tzuyu’s thin form, causing a light stream of blood to splatter from her lips. She wipes her mouth with a ragged breath before continuing, “Look, I did it for her own good. We all know his track record at keeping humans alive.” 

“You did it to protect her!?” Jaebeom cackles, “Wow! That’s fucking priceless!” 

“Say what you will, you both know I’m right.” Tzuyu says, propping herself up against a nearby bookshelf. “It’s either she ends up dead or is turned into a vampire—then again, there’s not much of a difference between the two, is there?” 

“I would die before I allow (Y/N) to come to any harm.” 

“The only issue with that is you can’t die, Jinyoung.” Jinyoung doesn’t take his eyes off Tzuyu as she grabs a bottle of brandy from the top shelf. It takes her literal seconds to unscrew the cap and down a good portion of the container. She licks her lips and says, “I’m sorry I attacked (Y/N), okay? I went too far. I won’t do it again.” 

“You think an apology is enough to save your life?” Jaebeom snickers before snatching the alcohol from the vampire, “Think again, sweetheart.” 

“What do you want from me, Jaebeom? Does seeing me die a slow, painful death bring you joy?” 

He shrugs, “No one mourns for the wicked.” 

“Is he always this much of an asshole?” 

Jinyoung chuckles, “Pretty much.” 

“Great.” The vampire breathes out a sigh and cards her fingers through her hair. After a brief moment of silence, she directs her attention back to Jaebeom and pleads—her voice packed with desperation and fear, “What can I do to convince you to let me live? Please, Jaebeom… I don’t want to die.” 

“You should have thought about that before you touched what I told you not to.” Jinyoung remains quiet as Jaebeom lifts a hand to grasp Tzuyu’s jaw. The dying visitor remains unphased, proceeding to glare at the hybrid with hateful, yet oddly sorrowful eyes. “I suggest you show yourself out before I end your life sooner.” 

“You’re going to lose everything one of these days, Jaebeom.” Tzuyu shakes her head sadly, wiping away a layer of cold sweat from her forehead. “You’re going to lose everyone, even your brother, and you’re going to be alone. For an eternity.” 

“Save the monologue.” Jaebeom waves dismissively, taking a sip of the brandy before returning it back to its shelf. “Petty isn’t a good look for you, baby.” 

“Fuck you, Jaebeom.” Tzuyu goes to stomp out the door, but something—someone blocks her path. The atmosphere changes when Jinyoung notices your panicked form, practically gasping for air and cross-eyed, standing in the doorway. He immediately speeds to your side without hesitation, grasping your hands in hopes to ground you. 

He stares into your eyes, “What is it, (Y/N)? What’s wrong?” 

“You and Jaebeom have to get the hell out of here! Right now!” 

Jaebeom shakes his head in confusion, “What the hell are you talking about?” 

“I don’t know what exactly happened but Minho turned Changbin into this dark werewolf creature or-or something… I do know, however, that Changbin is on his way right now to kill you both.” Jinyoung steps back at the intensity of your explanation, unable to think of a response over the roar of his thoughts. Through his peripheral vision, he can spot the same type of speechlessness across Jaebeom’s face. 

Not again… 

“That’s stupid… You realize nothing can kill them, right?” Tzuyu scoffs. 

“This is different.” You urge, “I saw Changbin—he wasn’t like anything I’ve ever seen before… The spell that Minho used, it was-was—” 

“Dark magic.” Jinyoung finishes blankly, “The spell was dark magic.” 

“Yes… which means you and Jaebeom need to leave town as fast as you possibly can before—” 

“I don’t think anyone is going anywhere, (Y/N).” Jinyoung’s entire body grows stiff as a new voice echoes throughout the study. He cautiously turns his head, discovering none other than the young werewolf in question resting among the shadows. His eye also catches the open window a few inches away, and he curses himself for ever wanting to feel the nightly draft. 

Changbin’s smirk is as dark as his eyes. 

“What?... Not going to offer me a drink?” 

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“(Y/N)! Get out of here! Now!” Jaebeom hears Jinyoung scream as the werewolf suddenly launches forward, knocking his brother into the bookshelf behind him. The wood completely splinters beneath the impact, raining down an array of books and planks on Jinyoung’s body. Changbin turns to Jaebeom next, but the hybrid is ready—and pissed off. 

Jaebeom speeds toward the intruder and delivers a swift kick to the gut. Changbin flies back at the force, crashing back through the window with a loud growl. Sensing the urgency in time, Jaebeom quickly throws Jinyoung’s immobile body over his shoulder and urges both you and Tzuyu out the study door. 

“Come on! We gotta go!” 

“Jaebeom! What the hell is happening!?” He ignores Tzuyu’s fearful ask and proceeds to lug Jinyoung through the maze of hallways and down the staircase, you and the female vampire hot on his heels. He doesn’t know exactly where he’s going, but he makes his way to the parlor where he props Jinyoung up against a nearby chair before turning to you: 

“You need to leave. I will deal with this.” 

“No way. I’m not going anywhere.” Jaebeom curses your stubbornness inside his head, sending a stern glare in your direction. Your expression remains fixated, and he can’t help but wish your presence in any other situation but now. 

“I can’t protect you right now—” 

“And I can’t sit back and watch you get yourselves killed!” You shake your head indignantly, “I’m staying!” 

“Fucking hell, (Y/N)! Get your ass out that door before I throw you out myself!” 

“Jaebeom, watch out!” At Tzuyu’s cue, a wooden branch comes soaring in through the window. Jaebeom immediately throws himself against you, effectively forcing your body to the ground to dodge the projectile. He can feel your fear through the trembling of your limbs and hurried breaths, but it only brings him more determination to tear apart his attacker. 

He shakes his head in surrender, “You stay on the fucking ground, understand? Don’t you fucking dare move a muscle.” He doesn’t bother to wait for a response and pushes himself back to his feet. 

Tzuyu is huddled in a corner, and Jinyoung has yet to awaken from his crash landing back in the study. Jaebeom tries to focus his senses on detecting the werewolf, but he can’t seem to hear anything past the beating of his own heart. He carefully makes his way over to the incapacitated vampire, attempting to force him back to consciousness. 

“Now is really not the time for a fucking nap, Jinyoung.” He hisses, “I swear to god, if I have to save your ass one more time—” Another wave of tree branches come crashing through the windows. Unfortunately, Jaebeom is not as quick and one catches his shoulder at just the right angle. He feels the wood sink into his flesh, painfully carving into his bones. With a low groan, Jaebeom manages to grab the makeshift stake and remove it in one hefty pull. 

He tosses it away with a yell, “You gonna hide like a little bitch!? Or are you gonna come out and fight like a man!?” 

“Be careful what you wish for, asshole!” Jaebeom turns just in time to discover the werewolf emerging from a shattered window. His blood boils when he notices the sadistic grin along the young kid’s face—he wonders how those teeth will look strewn across the parlor floor. 

Changbin comes at him fast, much faster than Jaebeom could have predicted. He manages to dodge a set of jabs, but he’s not so lucky when Changbin lands a heavy hit against the side of his face. Pain erupts through his jaw as he collapses to the floor, but Jaebeom doesn’t have the chance to dwell over it and rolls out of the way just as the werewolf attempts to stomp his nose. 

Jaebeom tries to speed away again, but like before, his counterpart is faster. Changbin manages to force him to the floor for a second time, pinning his body down with his own. Horrified, the hybrid watches as the werewolf’s eyes glow blood red and large, pitch black fangs emerge past his parted lips. Once again, he attempts to break free, but it’s no use—Changbin is too strong. 

Just when he believes the wolf’s fangs are going to sink into his neck, another form knocks Changbin away. Jaebeom hurriedly props himself on his arms in time to watch Tzuyu deliver a series of hits and kicks to the perpetrator, eventually slamming his head into a nearby armoire. Taking advantage of the moment, she turns from Changbin to Jaebeom instead: 

“Grab Jinyoung and (Y/N) and run!” She screams, “Get the hell of here!” 

Unable to move, Jaebeom remains as Tzuyu attempts to fight off the wolf. But with the combination of his ultimate strength and her weakness from Jaebeom’s venom, her defeat is inevitable. He watches in terror as Changbin sinks his teeth into the vampire’s arm before yanking her head forward and effectively snapping her neck. Jaebeom feels his insides practically soar with rage when the attacker tosses a comatose Tzuyu across the room like a useless toy. 

“I’ll kill you…” He sneers, allowing his own supernatural features to overtake his face. “I’ll fucking kill you…” 

Changbin shakes his head with a smirk, “I’d like to see you try.” 

Using the little agility he has left, Jaebeom grabs one of the branches and speeds toward the wolf. Due to Changbin’s movements, he misses his chest, but manages to stab the weapon in his stomach. Changbin releases a pained groan, allowing Jaebeom to take advantage of his surprise and land another array of uppercuts to his face. Just when he finally thinks he has the upper hand, his opponent blocks one of his hits and pins him against a wall with a hand around his throat. 

“Any last words, Prime?”

“You really think you can kill me?” Jaebeom growls, squirming against Changbin’s hold. 

“I know I can… Have fun rotting in Hell—fuck!” 

Shock spills through Jaebeom’s veins as the point of branch suddenly appears through the center of the wolf’s chest, splattering red across both of their bodies. Changbin’s grip releases, allowing the hybrid to quickly speed out of his reach. Once he’s a safe distances away, Jaebeom looks to his savior, discovering the one person he never expected to see—

You stand over Changbin’s body—chest heaving and bloodied hands trembling. Your eyes are glassy when Jaebeom meets your gaze, and for some reason, he feels the urge to go and pull your form into a tight embrace. Your voice, however, returns his mind to reality: 

“Did I… Did I kill him?” 

“I don’t think so.” Jaebeom answers, nursing his wound with his own shaky fingers. “We need to get out of here—get somewhere safe.” 

“Good idea.” You trudge over to where Jinyoung is still unconsciously laid across the chair. Jaebeom follows your lead and hurries over to a lifeless Tzuyu. “I know somewhere we can go… but I don’t think you’re going to like it.” 

“(Y/N)... There is an immortal, unkillable super wolf out to kill me and my brother currently in my living room…”  He snorts, maneuvering Tzuyu’s body into one arm and assisting you and Jinyoung with the other. 

“Trust me, anywhere is a hell of a lot better than here…”

#got7 #got7 fanfic #got7 fic #got7 imagines #got7 x reader #got7 angst #got7 smut #got7 au #im jaebeom #im jaebum x reader #im jaebeom fanfic #mark tuan #mark tuan fanfic #mark tuan x reader #jackson wang #jackson wang x reader #jackson wang fanfic #park jinyoung #park jinyoung x reader #park jinyoung fanfic #kpop fanfic #kpop au

[wren-ravenheart]

I'll Keep Your Memory

@witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo

Prompt: Childhood Memorabilia Relationships: Lambert/Jaskier Rating: T Content Warnings: Hints of child abuse, cursing, Summary: Modern Au Julian and Lambert have lived next door to each other as long as they can remember, and have been close friends for nearly as long. Lambert entrusts a box of his most prized possessions to his best friend, and spends more and more time with him and away from his own house. Before either can come to terms with what this means for them, tragedy strikes and both boys are left wondering if they'll ever see their friend again.

Cross-Posted to Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31149023

Most of this is under a cut as I went Completely off the Rails with this little prompt, and this is 6k words of chaos. <3

~~~~~~~

In a small town, on a quiet street, in the middle of nowhere Redania, there lived two families who seemed completely innocuous to anyone passing by. Each family lived in a squat little cookie-cutter house with dark brick walls, a comfy front porch, and a well-maintained lawn. Each family consisted of a husband, a wife, and their only son. And there is where the similarities end, for while in one house there is love and laughter, the other holds darker secrets that would never come to light.

Julian had lived next to Lambert’s house for as long as he could remember. Their dads worked together up until recently, and the two boys were never far from each other. He considered Lamb his very best friend in the whole wide world, with his bright hazel eyes, lop-sided grin, and floppy black hair. And now, finally, at the tender age of Ten, Lambert apparently also considered him his very best friend as well.

“Julek, you have to promise me to keep these safe at all costs, okay?” Lambert had a serious look on his face as he handed him a shoebox full of his most important things. Julien took the box with trembling hands as he nodded.

“Of course. But… but why are you giving me these? You never let your trading cards out of your sight..”

Lambert shuffled back and sat on Julian’s bed with a sigh. He kept his eye on the box as the other boy turned to nestle it into a corner of his closet carefully. “Well, you know how my dad doesn’t work with your dad anymore?”

“Mhmm.”

“Yeah, well he’s lookin around the house now for anything he can get his mitts on to sell. Some of those cards took me forever to find and I ain’t about to let him get anywhere near ‘em. So they’ll stay here with you…. Along with a few other bits.”

Julian popped his head up and looked over at Lambert in awe. “You mean…”

“Yeah. It’s in there. Don’t touch it.”

He shook his head so hard he wondered if he was gonna rattle something loose. “I promise. I’ll keep it all safe.”

Lambert cracked a small smile and patted the bed next to him in invitation. Julian hurried over and plopped down, pulling his legs up to cross in front of him. He nudged the other’s shoulder slightly in hopes of more of the story.

“Not much to tell, Jules. I just don’t… I don’t have a good feeling. He’s actin’ different and Momma is quieter lately. I haven’t heard ‘em fight, but then who knows why adults are the way they are.”

Julian nodded and leaned his head over on his best friend’s shoulder. Lambert ruffled his hair and stole a quick hug before shoving him over in the bed. Julian bounced off the mattress with a laugh.

“Enough sad crap! C’mon I wanna kick your ass in Mario kart.”

He was up and out the door before Julian could roll himself off the bed. “No fair! Cheater!” And raced after him with a shout.

They didn’t talk about the box again, and Lamb only asked to see it maybe four times over the next two years. Things got progressively worse at his house as his father failed to keep a steady job and took to drinking. He overheard his own parents whispering from time to time over the state of “that poor boy’s mother” when they thought he couldn’t hear them.

He kept a watchful eye over his best friend anytime the two were playing together, trying to see whatever his parents thought they saw. He only saw Lambert acting sillier and sillier as time crept on, and spending more and more time over with him. The night of his twelfth birthday, Lambert even spent the night. It was a turning point for him.

They woke the next morning in an octopus tangle of limbs, and he felt his little pre-teen heart stutter as he suddenly noticed the way Lambert’s hair brushed his forehead, and the way the lingering chub to his cheeks only enhanced his smile. Clearly, whatever his parents thought they were seeing was wrong. His best friend was fine! More than fine, really...

He took two entire painful weeks to come to terms with the sudden crush he had developed, and another month to think of a reasonable way to admit said crush to his very best friend without terrifying him away forever. He wrote five letters to Lambert in the hopes of figuring out what he wanted to say and how he wanted to say it. All five ended in crumbled heaps at the bottom of his trash can.

Finally, he could take it no longer and decided to just go pay him a visit and confess it all. Patience had never been his strong suit, and what self-respecting 7th Grader kept such important information to themselves anyways?

With a quick glance at Lambert’s special box for courage, Julian marched out his front door on his mission…

Only to be brought up short at the sight of four police cars, two fire trucks, and an ambulance blocking his street and covering the lawn of his best friend’s house in various uniformed people. The bouncing red and blue lights caused him to squint as he tried to make out what was going on. Before he could even take a step forwards to investigate, his father’s hand came down on his shoulder, holding him fast. He glanced up to see his father with a grim look on his face and  his mother a step behind, tears already shining in her eyes. Julian swallowed around a sudden lump in his throat as he gazed back towards Lambert’s house. His eyes burned as he tried not to cry. This wasn’t supposed to happen…and how was he ever going to confess now? Was this what his parents had been whispering about for months?

“Dad, what’s… what’s going on? Is Lambert okay?”

“I don’t know, son. I don’t know.” His voice was quiet and not at all reassuring, even as he tugged Julian into a loose hug.

His father was able to coax him back indoors with the promise of ice cream and Star Wars, but the flashing of the lights stayed with him. They would play over and over again whenever he closed his eyes. And they would haunt him again when he finally made it back outside in the late afternoon of the next day and all that greeted him was an empty street and police tape barricading off the house of his favorite person. And he knew he’d never get those lights out of his nightmares when the scene outside didn’t change, and his best friend never came back.

~13 years later~

Kaedwen was terribly muggy and sticky in late summer. The humidity made the air outside feel like it was nearly chewable, and Jaskier had to stop from time to time to wipe the sweat from his forehead as he hunted for the row his new flat was on.

Jaskier, formerly known as Julian, was enrolled in the Musical Theory graduate program at the University of Daevon, freshly turned 25, and was absolutely turned around in what he hoped was his neighborhood. He pulled a suitcase behind him and had a duffel bag hanging from his other shoulder, and looked to all the world at large to be a completely lost tourist. Four people had passed him and given him the stink eye as they went.

He took another glance at the paper his lodging information was on again and sighed heavily. This was not shaping up to be his day, or even his week.

“Lost, little puppy?”

Jaskier turned his head so fast he thought he heard something in his neck pop, bringing himself at eye level with a very tall and broad man with hair that looked like a snowdrift. He couldn’t help it, he gawked and wasn’t even subtle about it.

The man grinned at him, apparently well aware of the effect he had on strangers, and strode forward to take the paper from Jaskier’s hand without even asking. Jaskier spluttered a bit, straightening to bring himself to his full 6 foot height as the man frowned and hummed at the paper. He puffed his chest, brought up his hand, and prepared to begin a proper lecture on the rudeness of this strange man.

“Now see here - “

“You missed your flat. It’s six houses back on the left. The numbers can be a little weird around here, but if you double back you shouldn’t miss it.” The stranger pointed as he spoke, singling out the building in question as he handed back the paper. Jaskier took it with a squeaked out ‘Thank you’, completely deflating in equal parts confusion, gratitude, and little bit of attraction to this very headstrong person.

The stranger simply grinned and nodded to him. “Welcome to Daevon. You’ll love the food.” And with that odd non-sequitur, he strode away, leaving a mildly dazed Jaskier behind.

As he lifted the paper again to double check the address, he noticed the man had also managed to tuck the small menu of a local restaurant as he’d handed it over. The Wolf Den: Kaedweni Cuisine with a Redanian Twist . Huh. What were the odds of that? He missed the food around Novigrad… maybe this was something he should try out. He tucked the menu safely away in his duffel pocket and made his way into his new home.

~

Lambert carefully shifted the skillet he was using onto the burner and wiped his hands off as his brother strode into the kitchen with a grin on his face that meant he was up to something. He eyed him warily as Geralt dumped his latest grocery haul onto an empty prep table.

“What’re you smiling at?”

“It’s a lovely day.”

“Bullshit. My sweat is sweating. You look up to something…”

Geralt shrugged and began sorting through his haul. “Saw a cute guy today. University chap. Totally lost looking like a sad puppy. Slipped him a menu.”

Lambert let out a loud bark of laughter. “Ohhoh! You’re hopin he comes sniffin around here and you get to ooze your charm at him.”

Another shrug from his brother. “Maybe it’s just nice having more customers..”

“Mhmm. Customers. Right. Maybe I’ll sneak out to him first.” He turned to wiggle his eyebrows at Geralt and make a mildly crude gesture with his left hand. His brother just rolled his eyes and proceeded to ignore him. With a shrug of his own, Lambert went back to work.

He’d been adopted by this family shortly before he turned 13 and they had literally saved his life. He wasn’t sure of where he would be if he hadn’t been taken in by his Foster father. Vesemir had already had Eskel and Geralt, both six and five years older than him respectively, and this restaurant near the University district. He’d been taught to cook, had an excellent head for the numbers side of the business, and had been able to incorporate some of his favorite dishes from his early childhood into the menu. Any other memories of his time in Redania he swiftly shoved down as far as he could. Was it healthy? Maybe not. But the less he thought of it, the less it hurt. And eating away his feelings was honestly his favorite thing.

A phone ringing about fifteen minutes later kicked him right out of his spiralling thoughts as he watched Eskel reach out and snag the receiver.

“Wolf Den, what can I get ya?”

Eskel mumbled, explained, and scratched out a delivery order before pushing it towards Lambert.

He picked it up and looked it over. Jaskier P. Weird name. With a shrug he tacked the order up next to his current and threw a thumbs up at Eskel. Lunch rush time.

~

Jaskier sat cross legged on his couch, gesturing at his friend Essi with a fork and talking around a mouth full of food. Three take out boxes sat open on his coffee table, all from The Wolf Den.

“I’m tellin’ you, Ess. Not only is this the best food within delivery distance of this place, but they’re staffed entirely by greek gods pretending to be men. One of them is clearly a mountain god, built like an entire apartment building with what must be the softest head of brown hair I have ever seen. One clearly lords over the snowy plains, white hair but he can’t be that much older than me and also looks like he could break me in two and I’d thank him.” Essie snorted and he waved the fork menacingly. “You mock, but I’m serious. And I also met what I think must be the owner, because he’s clearly an older gentleman, but yet again! Built like a tank and aging gracefully. I have yet to meet their other cook, but I will if it’s the last thing that I do! I want to marry this place.”

“That’s illegal in all territories, Jask. We aren’t that progressive yet.” The tremor in her voice as she tried not to laugh gave her away.

“Again with the mocking!”

“Well, I could hardly call myself your best friend if I didn’t put you in your place on occasion. Now am I going to help you unpack or are you going to blow all your time and grad money on more food?”

Jaskier huffed and shoved one more bite into his mouth before getting up and stomping off into his bedroom. Essi followed shortly trying to suppress her giggles. The kitchen was still a disaster of boxes, hence the take out, and the bedroom as well. All he had managed to get properly set out was his living room and working spaces, clearly the most important.

Three squat boxes sat at the end of the bed and the closet doors were propped open. Essi sat herself down on the corner of the bed and cracked open the box closest to her. She pulled out an impressive length of soft rope and raised an eyebrow at Jaskier.

He darted over and snatched the box away from her with a glare. “It says Private on the box, Ess! Open the other one!” He grumbled as he stomped away to shove the box wholesale into the closet to be promptly forgotten about. Essi just grinned at him in a way that made him sure she had done that on purpose.

“You’re a menace.”

With a raucous laugh, she settled back into the other box.

Two hours, and a bottle of wine, later and all that was left was a few items tucked away in the bottom of the last box. There were clothes hanging in his closet, proper bedsheets on his bed, and several photo frames on his walls. Essi pulled a very battered, barely holding together with duct tape, shoebox out and squinted at it.

“What in the name of 90s nostalgia is this monstrosity?”

Jaskier turned to see what she had and his face went through several rapid emotions before settling on the best poker face he could muster. He stepped forward and took the box gingerly from her, trying his best to ensure his voice came out steady.

“An old friend gave it to me for safe-keeping.” The words came out steady and he gave himself a mental high-five as he walked into the closet and set it carefully on a high shelf. As gently as he could, he shifted it back until it hit the wall and was safely tucked out of sight. Despite the ease with which he said it, Essi caught the emotion there. She stood up and crossed over to wrap her arms around his middle. He tried not to get choked up as he patted her arm in quiet thanks.

“It’s Lambert’s, isn’t it?”

“I can’t believe you remember that.”

“Jask, you were drunk off your gourd, sobbing into my lap… how could I forget?” She punctuated her last sentence with a soft headbutt between his shoulder blades. “You haven’t spoken of him since, but you were close.”

“Closest I have ever been to anyone besides you and my parents.” He reached back and scratched at her head until she let go and he was free to wander back over and flop on the bed. She followed and sat down beside him.

“I didn’t mean to drag down the mood.” Essi hummed while flipping his wisps of hair out of his face. “How about we go over to this little food joint you love so much for lunch tomorrow, in person, so you can shamelessly flirt in a more open fashion than by simply filling your bin with endless takeout boxes.“

That got a smile and a wink out of him. “You won’t regret this. The workers are nearly as delicious as the food.”

~

True to her word, Essi followed along behind Jaskier as they walked into the rather unassuming building that housed the “World Famous”, Jaskier’s words, Wolf Den. It was warm and cozy inside and much to her surprise and happiness was indeed entirely staffed with the most lovely specimens of the male variety.

A tall, handsome man with curling blonde hair and an interesting scar through his eyebrow was perched near the front and greeted them. He was scribbling away in a binder and motioned out towards the tables. “It’s open seating, so find a comfy spot and we will be by shortly for your drink orders.”

They found a corner table and settled in. There were a few other people scattered around, but it really seemed like a mellow afternoon. Essi settled in with her menu while Jaskier propped his chin in his hand and took in the surroundings. The greeter was talking briefly to a very tall and pale-haired woman with tattoos, piercings and a hip apron singling her out as likely their waitress. Sure enough, she sauntered over and smiled down at them. “Hey, welcome to the Wolf Den. What can I get you to start or drink?”

Jaskier grinned and rattled off his order and piped up on Essi’s behalf as well while she made googly eyes at the waitress and forgot how to use the common tongue. With a knowing smile, and a wink to Essi, the waitress sashayed away towards the kitchen.

“We’re coming here every day.”

Jaskier burst out laughing and put a hand to his belly as he chortled. Essi just glared at him, which only made the laughing worse, and by the time the waitress was back with their drinks he had dissolved into a teary-eyed hiccuping mess.

“You okay there, pal?” She asked sincerely and held out a handful of napkins to him. He took them gratefully and nodded.

“Yes.. yes.. I’m fine. Ahem. Just fine, thank you.” He managed to get out while smacking his chest to clear the last of his giggles and hiccups. With a final throat clear, he picked up the menu and tried his best to successfully order their lunch.

~

“What in the devil’s name was that noise?” Lambert tried to peer around Ciri as she loitered in front of the kitchen door holding an order ticket.

“Guy at table eight has a funny friend apparently. She nearly killed him with some kind of joke. I think it had to do with my ass.” She grinned as she said this, cocking her weight onto one hip and shaking the ticket back in her uncle’s face.

Lambert grabbed the ticket and bared his teeth, trying again to get around her. “If someone is harassing you, that ain’t funny! Let me at ‘em. I’ll show ‘em manners. Fuck their food. “

Ciri grabbed him by the shoulders and stood her ground. “Hey! Stop it! I was having a bit of a laugh myself. They were perfectly fine, I just thought the girl was gonna swallow her own tongue when I took their drink order. No harassment. Besides, she was kinda cute.” She ended with a pat to Lambert’s cheek and a smug smile. “Now make them lunch, or I’ll do it for you and you know how that will end.”

Lambert winced as he went back over to his stove. “With the freakin’ police department shuttin’ us down for health code violations and poisoning the customers, that’s how… Fine. Fine! But you just wait until you aren’t watchin’ me. I’ll show them not to ogle my niece.”

“Of course you will, you big softie.” She winked and swanned back out the door to the front of the house.

With a series of curses and grumbles, he sets to work. He was proud of his food. Maybe he’ll just serve it himself. See how that goes. Have a little word with the fairly odd couple out there. Yeah. He could do that just fine.

~

One moment, Jaskier is engaged in a spirited debate over the authenticity of a recent submission to the department by one Valdo Marx, the next he is all but forgetting to breathe as the last of the great Wolf Den Men saunters his way out of the kitchen and directly towards their table with their order. He’s tall, but whereas Geralt is Ethereal and Eskel is an entire Mountain, this man is more like the physical embodiment of a warm hug. He has dark black hair slicked back from his head, showing off what must be an early onset widows peak, and looks both muscular and comfy from every angle. His eyes are a warm amber, but a mildly menacing look across his face is pulling at a long scar across the left side of his face giving him just that hint of danger Jaskier is always such a sucker for.

He realizes he hasn’t closed his mouth yet. Something about this man is sucking away his entire ability to breathe correctly.

The man stops in front of their table and carefully sets out their plates. “Here ya go. I assume you’re in from the university, a nice couple like you. I hope my niece saw to you when you got here. She’s 19, the sweetheart, and the pride of this place. Family run. I’m sure you understand.” He gestured back towards the front door, where the waitress from earlier was talking with another pair of customers. There was something in his voice that was both fond, and mildly intimidating. Like he was aware of Essi’s eyes lingering earlier. There was something else in the accent that kicked Jaskier’s heart rate up and made him stare even harder.

He made a mildly choked noise as he finally closed his mouth and attempted speech again. It wasn’t very well done.

The man narrowed his eyes at him and the intensity of that gaze, more hazel now that he stares longer, once again stops all the words he might have been trying to say.

Geralt picked that fun and awkward moment to stroll into the building, look over, and promptly yell “Hey, Jaskier!”

The tense atmosphere screeched to a halt.

“What the hell, Geralt? This is Take Out Boy?”

Jaskier spluttered. “T-Take out boy?? What?”

Geralt just grinned and nodded. “You call at least once a week. We draw straws on who gets to deliver to you. You’re just so cute when you open the door and get flustered. Lamby here is salty he hadn’t met you yet. But he’s too good a cook to stick on delivery duty. I’m glad you came in for once.”

Jaskier tried to keep up with the font of words coming out of Geralt, but his brain had latched on to “Lamby” and refused to let it go. He spluttered some more, hoping a word or two had come out in there that might get one of these fine gentlemen to help explain what was going on.

“Aw come on, now. Don’t call me that in front of our best regular.”

“Why are you out here anyways, Lambert, I thought Ciri was working today.”

Jaskier’s brain fizzled out entirely. “Lamby… Lambert?” He muttered, mostly to himself, but also to the room at large.

“Well, yeah, she is. But she mentioned something about this table makin’ eyes at her and so I came over here to deliver their food and look menacing, I couldn’t help it. You know how I get.”

Geralt raised an eyebrow at that and looked more closely at the tables occupants. Jaskier looked like he was having three existential crises at the same time and his female friend was as red as red could be.  “Ah. My apologies. Didn’t mean to be making a scene out here. Lamb, let’s talk in the back, okay?” His voice held it’s own hint of steel that didn’t bode well for someone.

But as Lambert nodded and turned to move, Jaskier finally got his brain functionality back enough to whip out his hand and grab hold of the closes part of Lambert he could… his apron. The other man halted suddenly and frowned down at the hand on his clothes.

“Lambert?”

He looked over at Jaskier and noticed how his eyes looked like the ocean, wide and blown out, and his entire face looked like he was a mix of happy and terrified and borderline about to pass out.

“Yeah?”

“From Redania?

He went still, and dropped all emotions from his face.

“Who wants to know?”

“Julian Pankratz.”

Now it was Lambert’s turn to suck in a breath and then promptly forget how to breathe again. He opened his mouth and all that came out was a bit of a choked off noise before he was ripping away from Jaskier’s hold and sprinting back into the kitchen. Jaskier was left with his hand still out and the beginnings of tears forming in his eyes.

Geralt looked back and forth between Jaskier and the still swinging kitchen door a couple of times before landing back on the other man and putting his hands on his hips. “What the hell was that?”

Jaskier tried to clear his throat and speak, but all that came out was a wounded groan. Essi reached over and covered his hands with her own.

“Jaskier is from Redania as well. Mentions on brief occasions his oldest and best friend from his childhood. His first crush. A man he still carries around a beat up old box of mementos for. A man named Lambert.” She spoke softly, not taking her eyes off her friend as she did.

Geralt sat down heavily in an empty chair. “So you… you knew him. Before?”

Jaskier nodded.

“Lambert won’t tell us what happened before he was adopted. The only things we know were that he was from Redania, he loved his mother’s cooking, and that he wanted to incorporate it into our menu. Other than that. He’s silent on anything else. I imagine that’s why he ran…”

Jaskier looked wounded. He had always wanted to know what had happened to his friend that night. But more than that, he just wanted to have his friend back at all. And to see him here, in a random restaurant in Kaedwen… well he was still trying to wrap his mind around it all.

Geralt nodded and stood up again. “I’ll go check on him. Can you… Can you stay? His shift ends in an hour anyways.”

With one more solemn nod from Jaskier, the other man stood and left. Essi ruffled his hair in affection before tucking into her own food. He just stared at his in a mix of shock and awe.

It was barely 40 minutes later, and only about half of his food eaten, that Lambert re-emerged from the kitchen and headed straight for their table. He stopped in front of it and shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. Jaskier watched him and tried to give him a tentative smile.

“Can we talk? Somewhere else?” He blurted.

Jaskier looked surprised but nodded and looked over towards Essi. She just waved her hand in dismissal.

“I can make my own way home. Thanks for lunch. I’ll see you tomorrow.” And with that she stood, nodded at Lambert and left the building. Jaskier stood up and pointed towards the door.

“My flat is a block over. We can talk there. I… there’s something I want to give you. And it’s private. I don’t have a roommate.”

Normally that would be grounds for a solidly flirtatious remark, but Lambert was still struggling with his own brain at the moment and simply nodded and followed after his old friend as they left and made the short walk.

Once the door to the flat was shut behind him, Lambert seemed to deflate a bit, the tension loosening some. “I wasn’t expecting to ever see you again.”

“Neither was I…” Jaskier agreed and walked towards his bedroom. Lambert followed and took a cautious seat on the edge of the bed. Looking around he saw photos of Jaskier with friends, with his parents, and with different instruments. Little snapshots of his life growing into what Lambert had to admit was a gorgeous and talented man.

The handsome man in question was rifling around in his closet, trying to pull something off a high self all while shaking his hair out of his eyes and mumbling to himself. He was about to ask if he needed help when the other made a little noise of triumph and bounded out and onto the bed with a very old box in hand. A box that was more duct tape than cardboard at this point.

“I never did more than patch it up when it threatened to fall apart. I never took out any of the contents, I didn't look or peek, and everything should still be in there just as you left it.” His voice had an excitedly breathless quality to it as he held out the box to him.

Lambert took it with shaking hands, little fragments of memory niggling at his mind as he lifted the lid with shaking hands. Inside, the bulk of his most cherished trading cards, his own copy of mario kart, and a letter and ring from his mother, cared for so diligently by another and protected like he had been unable to. He couldn’t form words. The emotions welled back up that he’d managed to push down so very hard since that awful night. The night she was killed. The night his whole world ended and then rearranged itself.

But here he was. Sitting on the edge of a bed that belonged to the first person he truly trusted besides his mother. He looked up to meet Jaskier’s eyes and was surprised to find his own vision blurring with unshed tears.

Jaskier made a hurt sort of tsking noise and launched himself forward, wrapping his arms around Lambert and hugging him. He let himself cry then, for the first time in over a decade, and fall apart feeling bafflingly safe in the arms of someone he hadn’t seen in even longer than that.

Jaskier shifted them to let Lambert lay down on the bed after his sniffled had died down, and went to go get them water and snacks. He returned to see Lamb propped up against his headboard, the box in his lap and the lid firmly on it. He went and sat beside him, holding out a glass of water to him.

“I can’t believe you kept this.”

“Well my very best friend in the whole world entrusted it to me. I wasn’t about to break that promise. Especially not after…” Jaskier’s smile faded as he trailed off. Lambert took the water before he dropped it and sipped while he thought about what to say. What could he say? If he was honest, Jaskier had been the first inkling he had that he wasn’t going to be living in a little brick house with a picket fence and a wife. Those first early childhood crushes lingered in the memory. At this point he was better off sipping his water and waiting for the other to find his footing for him.

“I wrote you letters. For a time. I didn’t put them in that box, and I didn’t keep them for long, but I… I did it anyways. All the way until college.”

“I worked very hard not to think of my life before… I never did anything like that, Julek. I’m not worth you having kept this for me. I worked so hard to forget my time before.”

Jaskier took a risk and reached out, taking Lambert by the hand and squeezing it. “You were my best friend. In my more morose hours, I may cry at length about the tragedy that was never knowing what happened to you. I had been going to go over that night and tell you I had a crush on you, but you were gone. But you’re here and whole, and I have a chance to get to know my best friend all over again.”

Lambert squeezed back then snapped his head up. “What? You had a what?”

“Oh, ah… Welllll. Of course that’s what you would latch on to. Turns out little Julian was not very into girls. My very first crush was on my very male best friend.” He winked as he said this, trying to bury his nerves behind bravado. He hoped it was working.

Lambert stared at him and then started giggling, giggling!, like a child. “No fuckin’ way.”

Jaskier puffed himself up and glared in a very ineffective manner. “Yes, fuckin’ way.”

“I had a crush on you , nimrod. I just… didn’t want to say anything. You knew my… well my situation.”

Jaskier hummed and scooted up closer. “I did. Though it seems like your situation has changed mightily. I’d… well, I would like to get to know you again. We’ve both changed. Be nice to become friends again in this new life.” He smiled as he talked, and Lambert just shifted his hands to lace their fingers together and smile back.” Hell, keep holding my hand and looking at me that way and I’ll lose control over my mouth entirely and go so far as to ask you on an actual date.”

Lambert’s smile went lopsided as he tried to avoid breaking out into laughter again. He shifted closer. “Yeah, well your mouth is welcome to run off and do that. I’m off on Thursdays. Which is, oh! Would you look at that… is tomorrow.”

Jaskier laughed and leaned in before stopping himself. “Still sassy. Can I hug you again?”

Lambert took his free hand and set it on Jaskier’s neck to pull him in. “You can have more than a hug, Buttercup.”

Jaskier barely had time to huff a laugh at that before Lambert’s lips were on his and his whole world was finally righting itself. They sat there, clinging to each other, working hard to be as close to the other as possible. When Jaskier finally pulled away to suck in a deep breath, Lambert carded his fingers through his hair.

“So, how about that date, then?”

The laughter sparked by this quickly dissolved into a series of very light moans as Lambert kissed him again and rolled them both over.

They had 13 years to make up for, but more important than the past for them, was the promise the future held.

~End~

#jaskier #lambert #witcher rarepair fanfiction #my writing #jaskier/lambert #Lambskier #Bombard #childhood friends to lovers

[c-cracks]

Passing OSCP

So I got the email every OSCP student wants this morning- I passed OSCP on my first attempt.

In the name of tradition, I’m just writing this to document my thoughts, experiences and my preparation up until enrollment. :)

Background

I’m self-taught in every aspect of IT that I know- from basic networking concepts to programming- and have been doing CTFs on sites such as HackTheBox and VulnHub.

Prior to OSCP, the only professional experience in pentesting I had was a 3 month-long apprenticeship with a local company; even there I didn’t get any real exposure to actual pentesting (thus why it was only 3 months.) 

I don’t have a degree yet either- I’m currently in my first year of Cyber Security (BSc) with Open University.

Preparation

I first heard of OSCP last year when I tried a physical university- there was an ethical hacking society there that were pretty much obsessed with the certification. After hearing of it’s alleged difficulty and reputation in the industry I looked into it and then hopped on the band wagon. I definitely wanted to be an OSCP.

I’d say that I had around 1 and a half years of CTF experience before enrolling, a lot of those machines being based off a list of OSCP-like VMs. I also had experience with buffer overflow at this point (had already hacked Brainpan and completed a majority of the challenges on SmashTheTux.)

I pretty much just decided to go for it one day, unsure of if I was ready or not.

The Course

I opted for 90 days lab time and spent nearly all day everyday hacking the lab machines in that time (probably missed 1-2 weeks altogether). In that time I got almost all the public network apart from dependent machines and two of the hard ones. A few machines from Dev and Admin too.

I barely even looked at the PDF until I went over using Immunity Debugger for buffer overflow but I think it depends on where your knowledge stands as to whether taking the time to do the PDF exercises is worth it or not. Like I said, before enrollment I’d already rooted a fair few machines on other platforms.

The Exam

5AM on Saturday the 17th of October was my exam start time. I had no issues with the proctoring software- lucky considering the proctoring software allegedly has poor Linux support (my OS is Ubuntu.) I thought starting earlier was a good idea as it meant -in the event of things going wrong- that I wouldn’t have to stay up a full extra night. I could have admitted defeat and went to sleep at 5. xD

While I did pass, I do feel the early start wasn’t a wise move: I was extremely tired after a night of tossing and turning, feeling my eyes starting to burn by 12 noon.

My sleep deprivation caused me to make a fair few silly mistakes I wouldn’t have otherwise made too- the buffer overflow took me 2-3 hours all because I didn’t notice I’d tried to set PORT instead of LPORT in my msfvenom payload!

By 8pm the following night I had 60 points under my belt- rooting the 10 point was all I had left to do before I had enough points to pass. By 10pm I had the 10 point- again due to my tiredness I hadn’t been logically trying everything to troubleshoot why things weren’t working as intended (don’t wanna give anything away about any of the exam machines.)

At this point I was exhausted. Happy with calling it a night, I proceeded to go back and take the necessary screenshots for my report the next day. This took a while- it was 1-2am before I told the proctor I was done and they ended the exam.

Ecstatic that I was halfway to passing, I went to bed eagerly- I still had a report to write.

The Report

The report writing is very tedious and -frankly- not what you want to do after the hacking part of the exam. I was still pretty tired from the day before and I just wanted to get it done.

I didn’t write the best report- I missed out some command output accidentally and had a nightmare formatting the report (this is why sleep matters!) but I had it finished and submitted in 8 hours.

Results

I got the great news today that I’ve passed- I’m now an OSCP! I’m very happy with this after spending so long preparing for it.

What’s Next?

I think I’m going to spend the next three years I’m at university getting deeper into exploit and malware development, maybe privilege escalation techniques too: I have a strong interest in these areas. I’ll probably do the odd CTF now and again just to keep my skill sharp in that area too.

Thoughts and Advice

Now I’m no sort of expert in the field yet; I definitely advice people to spend a fair bit of time on OSCP prep before enrolling.

Google OSCP-like VMs and go through them. Please: do not look at hints. I think this is a vital component to OSCP- the ability to be independent. You won’t have anyone to go to for advice in a real pentest or the exam, after all.

Looking at buffer-overflow prior to the exam is also an idea: it means the concepts of registers, x86 vs x64 and shellcode aren’t completely foreign to you. Like I said above- Brainpan and SmashTheTux are pretty good VMs for this.

I definitely think you should try to get to a point where you don’t need the course PDF beforehand so you can focus all your energy on the labs.

Doing this course has honestly been one of the most difficult things I’ve done- not because the machines themselves are difficult; it’s the pressure (especially if you paid for it out of savings- £1100 is ALOT of money to me!) and the time it takes. It tires you out physically and mentally.

However, it was also one of the most rewarding experiences I’ve had- while I wish I wasn’t as tired on the day of the exam so I could have got nearer to 100 points, I still managed to pass a famously difficult exam on my first attempt. All thanks to my preparation.

#oscp #offensive security #pentesting #hacking #exam

[yikesharringrove]

UWU okay imagine first day of preschool mina excitedly introducing herself as mango to the teacher and steve and/or billy laughing and explaining

Masterlist

Part 21

-

Back in time a little

-

Preschool had been a hard sell.

Steve worked three days a week at an animal shelter close to their place, spent most of his time at home with Mina. They had joined a few playgroups and one Mommy and Me class. He had tried to join more, but was told that he wasn’t technically a mommy.

During Steve’s shifts, Billy got to spend some time with Mina, or their neighbor across the hall, Maggie, came over to play with her.

So Steve didn’t want to forfeit any of his mornings with Mina.

“Sweet Thing, just think about it. We wanna get her used to a school environment, get her some independence, and help her socialize.” Steve was brushing his teeth furiously, standing in the doorway of their bathroom.

“She’s in playgroups. I am socializing her.” Billy raised an eyebrow from where he was sitting up in bed. “We are. Sorry.”

“I think it’ll be good for her. Plus, you could start working while she’s there. Keep yourself busy. And we could always do with more money.” Billy got paid pretty well at the garage, it was in a nice neighborhood, had a lot of rich customers that needed expensive work done on their expensive cars. But he was still a full time student, and a father, there were only so many shifts he could take.

When Steve’s mom had sent the check, she had sent a follow-up letter, told them part of it was Steve’s college fund, part of it was his trust, and part of it was a gift as they felt awful for being so terrible.

The trust had been put right into the bank, was now Mina’s trust. They put three quarters of the college fund in there as well, left the generous gift and a smidge of Steve’s college fund in their account to use for expenses.

But it’s not like their apartment was cheap. It’s not like having a two year old was cheap.

Steve just kept brushing his teeth.

“I’ll think about it.”

-

Steve caved pretty quickly.

They enrolled her in a two year old program, Monday-Friday from 9 am-noon.

They were both there to see her off on her first day. Billy was going to head to class after as Steve went to work until it was time to get Mina.

She had a mint green backpack that was too big for her little body. She had a snack for later, and her stuffed giraffe in there.

She was so excited to play with the other kids, but Steve and Billy showed her how to hang up her backpack, steering her in the direction of the teacher, a young woman with a bright smile. She bent to get on Mina’s level.

“Hi there! My name is Ms. Rachel. What’s your name?” She offered her hand. Mina shook it clumsily.

“Mango!” Billy choked on a laugh. The teacher looked up at them questioningly.

“No, Sweetie. What’s your name?”

“Mango!” Ms. Rachel stood up.

“Sorry, we call her Mango. That’s been her nickname since before she was born.” Steve crouched down. “What’s your real name? The one we practice spelling.”

“Mina Beatrice Hargrove.” Steve beamed at her.

“Perfect.” He stood back up.

“She goes by Mina Bea mostly,” Billy added. Ms. Rachel just laughed.

“That’s not the first time a pup’s introduced themself as a special nickname. Mina Bea, can you give your daddies a hug and tell them goodbye?” Mina’s face scrunched.

Billy swooped down to hug her, Steve following suit.

“I’ll be here to pick you up in a few hours, Mango. Be kind.” She just nodded, still looked a little confused as she took Ms. Rachel’s hand.

“Bye, Little Mango!” Billy called as they walked out.

They stopped when they got outside. Billy turned to Steve.

“How ya holding up?” Steve shrugged.

“I know this is like, what’s best for her, but, she’s my little buddy.” Billy just ran his hands up and down Steve’s upper arms, smirking at him.

“I kinda don’t remember what life was like before her.” Steve huffed a laugh.

“Me neither. What am I even supposed to do with myself while she’s gone?” Billy rolled his eyes.

“Maybe you could stop being melodramatic and go to work.” Steve slapped his chest. “It’s three hours, Baby. You’ll make it.” He pulled Steve into his chest, kissing him softly.

“I’ll see you later, Bill. If I don’t die without my pup.”

#yikes writes #mango #harringrove abo #harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove #steve harrington x billy hargrove #billy hargrove x steve harrington #omega steve harrington #alpha billy hargrove #harringrove fic #harringrove drabble #harringrove ficlet

[lupanaoflaminar]

So... there’s been something on my mind lately, something that I feel like a lot of younger people (though in high school and college) can relate to and really need to hear. This will probably be long, so be warned.

In short: I wanna share my experience with you guys on a particular situation that I found myself in.

To begin, I need you to understand that I was raised to be the best I could be. I was smart, froendly, never did drugs, etc, and I was an honors student because I worked hard. But I also was horrible at taking tests. I have text anxiety and no matter what, I couldn’t shake it. I’d talk myself out of the right answer, or get so nervous that my mind would blank. I also have a genetic condition that affects me, but didn’t know this at the time. So even though I worked my butt off, I was stressed and still hated tests.

Even so, I managed to go to college and studied in my dream job since I was a child. And things got harder.

This is also where I should mention that I had lots of financial aid and was enrolled in a state funded program that helped low income families. But to keep my enrollment, I had to have a certain number of credits per sementer (which meant lots of classes), and HAD to matain an average grade point.

I was smart, and I was studying for a job I would love, but I was struggling again. I went to my teachers, my advisors, and asked for help. There wasn’t much they could do. At least, that’s what I was told. My grades started slipping. I was desperate. And when you’re desperate, you tend to do stupid things.

I decided to cheat.

So when we were self-grading our tests one day, I changed a few of my answers. Not many. Just enough to give me maybe 15 points. And definitely not enough to give myself an A or B. If I knew I definitely knew the answer and had been stupid, I changed it, stuff like that. And I only did enough that I thought it would help keep my grades where they needed to be.

I did it a second time. And I got caught.

The teacher had been suspicious after my first attempt. So she was prepared and had proof the second time. She called me into her office, and there was another lady there; I can’t remember who she was but she was important.

My teacher asked me if I had cheated. I was scared and my heart was pounding. But I kept a straight face, and calmly said I didn’t. Then she showed me the proof. The second she did that, I knew I was busted. I was already scared and smotionally unstable, so I broke down crying there and admitted to everything.

Perhaps my punishment wouldn’t have been so bad if I had come clean when she gave me the chance. But the fact that I lied TO HER FACE was unforgivable in itself. I was told I’d either get a fail on the test itself, a fail in the class, or expulsion.

I remember being in a daze as I left. I remember talking in the hall to another student in my class because she could see I was upset and asked what was wrong. I remember going to my car, and shakily dialing my parents because I knew I had to tell them. I lived an hour away from campus and had to stop driving multiple times because I would start crying again.

To their credit, my parents were wonderful. They didn’t like what I’d done, but didn’t make things worse. They suggested I apologize to the teacher via letter, which I did. And I also apologized to her again in person. I don’t remember what I wrote exactly, but I know I said that I didn’t want the letter to affect the outcome of her decision.

In the end, I got a zero in the class, and after lots of talks with the financial department etc, I think I was able to keep it from affecting my permanent record. But honestly I haven’t looked so idk. I never re-enrolled for another semester either.

This all happened over 9 years ago. Its something I wasn’t able talk after or even THINK about for 2 of those years. Just the thought gave me anxiety and I mentally shut down. My parents are the only ones who really know what happened. And while I have no concrete proof, I’m convinced that this incident was one of the main reasons I was later disgnosed with depression.

Things are better now. I haven’t gone back to school, but I’ve had several jobs that have been rewarding and nice. Not all of them are what I thought I’d be doing - or even fully LIKE - but I have money for things. I am medicated for my mental health. Things are pretty good.

The point of this story that I’m trying to make is this: Please please please think about things before you act, no matter how desperate you are. Because it can screw up your life. But also, if you do mess up, its okay. Life goes on and things will get better. I promise that.

But on the other hand, looking back, the school system also failed me in a way. If I had had sufficient help, I wouldn’t have feltthe need to cheat in the first place. Yes, cheating on those tests was the stupidest, most foolish thing I could have done. And I of course regret it. But also, screw you academia. You need to help your students before they reach this point.

#personal rant #college #school #all I ask is that you guys reblog so it reaches younger ones #because this kinda thing is very important to me #was feeling a bit down tonight and kept thinking of this event #so I had to get my feelings out #I’m okay I promise! #if you read all of this thank you so much

[srrybabe]

I understand! It’s all very confusing, and even more so if you don’t have a professional to guide you through it! I’d recommend emailing someone at your college who works in the education department, as well as your faculty advisor to see if they’d offer you a starting point! Like I said, every state is different. I know for the bachelors level, future educators have to complete/pass the edTPA before taking any certification exams. If that’s the case, you might have to re-enroll in a Bachelor’s program or get your Master’s in the Art of Teaching (MAT) as an alternative! But that’s definitely information that they should be able to provide to you! If you’d like, I can message you off anon to help you do some research since I work in higher ed!

Ah I see. There are a lot of terms and things I don’t know so like you said and other people told me it’d be best to like find the program I wanna do and contact an advisor. Just idk what’d be best financially yknow and just for my situation. Im still going to think about this though this totally isn’t a set in stone thing but its what I’m considering. If we are mutuals you can def DM me if not you can totally come off anon so I can follow you so we can DM! I prob wont talk about it or DM u about it today tho only cuz like I’m only on mobile atm and its hard to research on my phone and i still wanna think about it but i do appreciate all your help atm!!!💖💖💖

#ask me stuff #anon

[broken-clover]

AU-gust Day 12- Modern

Here comes a joker! I really did like the idea of a crime au, but I just couldn’t come up with anything. So here’s something I’ve been wanting to make for a while, kinda inspired by an ask I got from Rex way back when. I just liked the idea of Axl being Bedman’s adopted dad, I thought it was neat!

Also apologies in advance for me using my name headcanons again, it’s just so difficult to work with a character whose name is ‘Bedman.’ Seriously, does he have a less bizarre name in canon? Who the fuck would name their kids ‘Delilah’ and ‘Bedman?’ Guess we know who the favorite was...

“I don’t like you.”

Axl wasn’t sure what he’d expected when he first signed up for the local foster program. Well, he sorta did. Ideally, he’d expected to be tasked with taking care of a child, with whatever bizarreness it would entail. He knew he wasn’t exactly what a lot of people would consider ‘prime material’ for a foster parent- he was an unmarried twentysomething with no clear direction on where he wanted to go with his life, but he was financially stable, passed all the agency’s legal checks and drug screenings, and attended every mandatory pre-service class alongside a small crew of other aspiring parents. Despite his best efforts, he always got the impression that the agency took issue with him being there. Still, Axl did everything he was told, waited patiently, and chatted with his assigned caseworker until they had found a match for him to try out.

Matthew had come with a ratty purple backpack, a seemingly-permanent scowl, and a laundry list of behavior problems tacked onto his case file. Axl wasn’t his first foster parent, he’d already gone through nearly a dozen, all of which had sent him back. The reasons varied, from destroyed appliances to constant verbal fighting. And he made it clear right from the get-go that he despised his new foster home just as much from the first words he uttered.

“I don’t like you. Send me back.”

It seemed nobody really knew where the origin of his ire was. Being pushed back and forth through the foster system again and again for years seemed like a perfectly good reason to be cross, at least in Axl’s opinion, but the way the orphanage and his agent had spoken about it made it sound like Matthew was born with a scowl on his face and just didn’t know how to take it off. They seemed surprised by the concept that he was even being placed in another foster home. The repeated failures and inability to get along with anyone seemed to indicate that he was doomed to take the slow path, waiting a few more years until he turned 18 and aged out of the system on his own.

In spite of their initial rough meeting, Axl did his best to welcome him warmly. He’d set up and painted a room ahead of time for his new family member to live in, acquired all the legal documents he needed for everything from school enrollment to medical files, and stored up a plethora of dad jokes that he could use as he needed. Matthew was unimpressed with all of them.

“I hate this place. When are you sending me back?”

For all the snarky comments and indifference he could manage, Axl didn’t budge. He was patient. He would keep trying.

Though he only knew so much about him from his case file (Matthew despised small talk, and Axl didn’t drag him into it), he’d done his best to support the interests he saw. He bought the science books he noticed the boy staring at in the shop windows, and trying to pick out new cartridges for the game system he barely let out of his sight. He seemed like the intellectual type, reading college-level books on social sciences and linguistics, and he preferred strategy games over any other kind. Axl wasn’t much of a bookworm himself, maybe that’s what made it so difficult for them to connect. But even if he couldn’t match him on an intellectual level, maybe he could still do so on a more personal one.

So he stayed patient.

“Why are you being so stubborn…?”

Axl could tell he was at least getting somewhere. They didn’t exactly have casual time together, not really, but he wasn’t immediately shooed away. Matthew could play his games, or read a book, and Axl could sit on the other side of the room. Every time, he inched closer and closer, until the only option left was for them to sit on the same couch.

“Heya, Mattie, mind if I sit down for a sec?"

It had been a quiet evening, not especially remarkable in any way. Just another day of work and school for the both of them, and free time afterward to unwind.

His son glanced up at him, but only for the briefest of moments. “You have more than one chair.”

“Yeah, but I just wanted to sit with you today. Is that okay?”

“...Fine. But don’t touch me.”

Axl sat himself down on the other side of the sofa. “So...how was school?”

“Don’t want to talk about it.”

The sheer speed of his response threw him off-guard. “Well, okay. Um, did I already tell you that I like the neat thing you’ve got going on with your hair?” He pointed towards the boy’s messily-dyed purple locks.

“Eight times. Nine now.”

“You do it yourself?”

“In my last house’s bathtub.”

“Must’ve been a right mess! But it looks like it turned out good?”

“It was. My foster mom was mad about the mess I made. So she wound up screaming at me over it. And I screamed back. And before I knew it, she sent me back. It’s on my case file, I thought you said you read it.”

Axl felt his tongue stick to the roof of his mouth. Well, open mouth, insert foot. He had read it, multiple times, but all it had listed was ‘confrontational issues and repeated arguments.’ He’d wondered exactly what that had meant, but actually figuring it out made him feel the exact opposite of satisfied.

“...Oh. Sounds like a right bitch.”

“She was. Can you stop asking questions now? I’m bored of them.”

He complied, though the ensuing silence only made everything feel more uncomfortable. He just didn’t get why some people screamed at their kids, mistakes just happened sometimes. Children were still learning how things worked, it seemed natural sometimes it would end in a mess.

“Hey.”

“I don’t wanna talk.”

“And I’m not gonna make you.” Axl stayed where he was. “Is it okay if I talk, though? You don’t have to say anything back.”

No response. But he didn’t get up and leave, like he had done in the past, so Axl took it as a cue to keep going. “I know you’re probably not gonna like me right away. And that’s ok. I’m still a total stranger, and you’re just expected to trust me to look after you. And I’ve seen all your paperwork, but that doesn’t mean I know anything about you as a person. We’re still strangers, the two of us.”

He paused. Matthew looked unfazed. “So I get it. I really do. I’m…” Axl tried to think of what he wanted to say. “I...

I’m not sending you back.”

Still no response. But Axl noticed the way his hands locked, and the little startled double-blink that came with it.

“If we’ve got issues, we can work ‘em out. I know you’ve been through a lot, so it’s ok if you have a rough time at first. And I’m not gonna throw you out as soon as you have a hard time. I totally get it. You’re not a bloody dog, I’m not gonna pretend like I can tame you with treats until you do whatever I tell you. There’s just some stuff we aren’t ever going to see eye-to-eye on. But no matter what, you’re my kid now, and you’re not going anywhere unless that’s what you really want.”

Slowly, uncertainly, he watched Matthew close his game and let it rest in his lap. He didn’t look up. “I want to be a good parent. I know I’m new at this, too, so I might fuck up a couple of times. I just want you to know that I’m ready to be your dad, and that means loving you no matter what.”

After another quiet, uncomfortable moment, a small voice piped up. “I’m not good at jokes, but yours aren’t funny.”

“It’s not a joke.” Axl replied. “I mean it.”

“It’s not funny!” It sounded more forceful the second time. His voice grew brittle. “You should send me back. Why won’t you send me back?”

“Why would I do that? You’re all set up in your room, and moving is a pain.” Axl tried to throw in a little friendly chuckle, but it didn't hide the unease in his voice. "Why would you think I would want to get rid of you?"

“I- I’m not-” His tone finally snapped, and his shoulders began to tremble. “I’m no good.”

He found himself hesitating for a moment, but Axl scooted closer, wrapping arms around his shoulders and giving his son a tight squeeze. “Nobody’s perfect. And I wouldn’t want you to be, anyway. I just want you to be you. Whatever that means.”

The two of them simply sat there for a while. This certainly hadn’t been in any of the advice books he’d read, but this was something Axl didn’t mind doing on his own. He just hoped he had expressed what he needed to.

He didn’t even think of letting go until he felt squirming against him. Matthew immediately picked up his game again and flipped it open. No acknowledgement at all. But...no, that was fine. He said he would accept him no matter what he was. If he didn’t like to talk about his feelings, then he didn’t need to force it.

“...help me with this turn.”

“Huh?” Curious, Axl shuffled closer to get a better look at his screen. “Wait, is this the one I got you?”

The boy nodded. “The mechanics are simplistic and the strategy elements are child’s play, but...I’ve had a lot of fun with it.” He tapped at something on his screen. “Alright. So right now my troops are stationed outside the dragon king’s fortress. How should they be organized when we open our assault?”

Well, he wasn’t much of a strategist, but he had no trouble giving it a go, anyway. “Uhh, definitely want to have some long-range stuff, right? So you can hit from a distance. Got anything for that?”

Another nod. “There’s a whole subclass for that, let me show you. There’s archers, a trebuchet, long-distance casters, and demolitionists. Each of them have a different set of stats and energy cost.”

“Why don’t you explain them to me a little more?”

“Sure. Archers have the best cost-to-efficiency ratio, but their projectiles are still on the weaker side. But if you take the trebuchet…”

It was a starting step, he realized, only a small one. But it was still something.

#AU-gust #writing #guilty gear #Axl Low #Bedman